


Sam Cleveland

by posingasme



Series: Lost & Found [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Amnesiac Sam, Cleveland, M/M, Marijuana, Ohio, Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-11
Updated: 2015-08-09
Packaged: 2018-04-08 19:57:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 40,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4317834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/posingasme/pseuds/posingasme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam knows nothing about his past. His memories were ripped away by the accident, and there is no one to fill in the blanks. If no one was there when he awoke in a hospital five years ago, he must not have been someone worth loving. </p><p>Castiel and his partner Ash are the last resort of a grieving man holding on to the hope that his kid brother might still be alive out there somewhere. If anyone can find him, surely it'll be them. This is what they do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Broken

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a Nonny Mouse prompt.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> May 2

It was the second broken dish of the night. Sam closed his eyes tightly and sighed in frustration.

Andy's hand came down on his shoulder. "Hey. You're having a rough night. You okay?"

Sam felt like bursting into tears, but that was the last thing a guy could do in a busy kitchen. The other cooks would eat him alive, and the chef would be the one to serve him up. "I'm fine," he said gruffly. "Just tired. Get Ansem to clean it up. You get this hot food out of here."

Andy shot him a sympathetic look. It was okay for a waiter, but if a cook showed anything more emotional than sarcastic irritation or bitter humor, he became a victim. Andy saw through him, but it still saved him face.

"Nice aim, Cleveland!" Meg called. "You got sauce on the blond bitch from all the way over there!"

Sam cringed. He would apologize later. For now, it was better to make a joke. "Hey, Ruby, you like it spicy, right?"

The waitress flipped him off as she grabbed two hot plates. "Screw you, Sam!"

"I think she likes your sauce, Sam," Meg cackled. "I'm just impressed with the sheer distance."

"Behind you," Ansem muttered. He glared at Sam. He had been pulled away from the dishwasher to clean up the first spill too.

Jake raised his eyebrow at him. "What, you've got something better to do?"

Ansem knew better than to answer.

Jake shrugged at Sam. "Apparently your broken dishes are interrupting his nap over by the sink."

Finally, the chef turned to silence them all with a flash of dark eyes. "If my food gets cold, or if I have a plate returned, there has never been torture in the history of torture like the torture you'll be tortured with."

Every cook, dishwasher and server was immediately silent and busy.

He stumbled in to the apartment at two thirty in the morning, and shed his shoes and clothes right away. They reeked of the kitchen. He stood in the shower for too long, just letting the water wash over his aching muscles. When he finally lay stretched out on his too-small bed, he glanced at his phone without much interest, and found a text message waiting for him.

"Happy birthday, buddy. I'll buy drinks this weekend if you're up for it."

Sam put the phone down and ran a hand over his face. Andy remembered everything, every little detail of every interaction. The first time Sam had gotten up the nerve to invite anyone over for a beer, it had been Andy.

And it was Andy who had once seen the odd child's bracelet and asked about it. "S-A-M, May 2.” Andy smiled. “What’s that?”

“Sam is my name.” But that wasn’t even something he was entirely certain about. It sounded right, but…part of him would probably never be sure.

“Obviously, dude. But…is May second your birthday or something?”

“Or something,” Sam said. He knew he probably sounded like a jackass, but he couldn’t really help it. “I mean…yeah, probably.”

“Probably? What the hell does that mean?”

Sam took a breath. Just thinking of all this was exhausting. “I mean, I don’t know. Not really.”

“How come?” 

For the first time, Sam considered telling the story. He wasn’t sure why Andy was the one he trusted with it. Andy had a weird way of getting people to talk or do things when they really had not planned to do so. “It’s kind of a messed up story. Sure you want to hear?” 

“Am I going to need a joint for this?”

Sam laughed quietly. “Only if you brought enough for the whole class.”

They smoked out on the balcony, with incense burning beside them. It was barely enough to feel a buzz, but it calmed Sam’s nerves. It quieted Andy, and put a smile on his face. “Okay. I can handle whatever you’ve got.”

He chuckled. “Yeah. Well, it’s a messed up story, but not a long one. About five years back, I woke up in a hospital in Cleveland without my memories.”

“Bullshit.”

“No, really. That’s why I took the name Cleveland. And Sam…that bracelet in there was hanging on a keychain with just one key on it, and that’s all the ID I had on me. No idea what the key goes to. It’s in a safe under my bed, but I probably won’t ever figure out what it’s for.”

“Why were you in the hospital? I mean, what was wrong with you?”

“Hit by a car jaywalking, apparently.” The weed let him laugh a bit. “I prefer to think I was rushing across the street to save a bunch of puppies from a burning building. Nobody can say I wasn’t.”

Andy burst into laughter. “Head canon accepted.”

“What does that mean?”

“Nothing. So I thought that whole amnesia thing never lasted long.”

Sam shrugged. “Or it lasts forever. It’s not like you see on television. Sometimes folks get amnesia because they got rattled, but this was an actual brain injury. The doctors don’t really think I’ll recover all my memories. Maybe a few here and there. Sometimes things seem familiar, but less and less as time goes on.”

“That sucks, man.”

“I guess. It’s my life, you know? And I do okay. All the physical stuff has healed up fine, except for some of the connections in the brain. And you know what? If I didn’t have anybody who cared enough to come looking for me when I walked in front of a car as a seventeen year old, maybe I don’t want those connections back. I must not have been worth much back then.” The weed was making his tongue loose. Words were spilling out before he could stop them. “Not worth much now. Must have been worth even less back then. They figured I was about seventeen when it happened. What kind of seventeen year old doesn’t have any family or friends or anything to check up on him and help him remember anything? What kind of seventeen year old only has a key and an old ratty bracelet on him when he gets hit by a car?”

“Maybe the kind who was trying not to be found. Maybe you’re a superhero.”

Andy was always able to pull a smile out of him. “Yeah,” he huffed. “Maybe. We can assume that.”

So they had spent the rest of the night laughing over theories about Sam as this kid who became aware of the supernatural world, and he hunted down monsters and couldn’t make emotional connections because it would endanger those he loved. It was oddly cathartic. Long after their buzzes died out and the moon was high, they were still exchanging ideas. Andy had decided that he was the funny sidekick who would inevitably get himself into loads of trouble and Sam would have to save him, and Sam added that it was always the funny sidekick who ended up with the beautiful girl in the end, because it was endearing.

“Well, it probably doesn’t hurt my chances that you’re gay,” he pointed out.

Sam had given him a surprised smile. “Yeah?”

“I mean, the beautiful girl will probably fall for you first, but you’ll be all stoic and shit, and I’ll console her when she finds out you’re not into chicks, and she’ll realize what an amazing catch I’ve been all along, but I’ve been in your shadow the whole time.”

“Am I obvious?”

“Obviously what? Gay?” Andy snorted. “Dude, you were checking me out when we first met, and Ruby’s been trying to get in your pants for months. I’d let Ruby live in my pants rent free. You don’t even seem to know she’s alive. Even Meg made a pass once, and you totally missed it. But you didn’t mind when that veterinarian guy, Emilio, moved into the office across the street. The guy with the dog, Riot, that liked to sit on your car?”

He felt his face flushing in the dark. “Okay. Yeah. He was kind of hot.”

“No, Ruby is hot. Emilio is a bitch who led you on until his ex-boyfriend showed back up.”

“You knew about all that, and you never said anything?”

Andy shrugged. “What did you want me to say? Sam, stop falling for the obvious head case who is clearly rebounding from some other guy, and who makes you feel like dog food even when he’s being nice to you? You weren’t even out. I have a strict don’t-out-people policy, even if I have some good advice for them. I didn’t know you well enough then. Now, I can tell you that Emilio was a bad choice. Back then, I just kind of cringed every time I saw you talking to him out in the parking lot between the restaurant and his office.”

“Thanks for that,” he sneered. Then he sighed. “Not much point in not being out now. And it isn’t like I’ve got any prospects.”

“Well, I’m your funny sidekick, and that makes me your wingman too. So I’m required to give you advice and tell you the truth. You don’t have prospects for the following reasons.”

Sam closed his eyes and braced himself.

“One. You are fucking intimidating. Like, freakishly intimidating. You’re a skyscraper. It’s scary for a guy who isn’t attracted to you. I can’t imagine what it would be like if I were hot for you.”

“I’m too tall to find a guy?”

Andy nodded. “I don’t make the rules. If you were into chicks, it might be different. But you’re fucking scary. Two. You’re always hanging out with your adorable, quirky, charismatic best friend, who is straight but could come across as gay, so you look like you’re taken.”

Sam cackled. “Lose the straight friend. Got it.”

“I mean, look, it’s not in my best interest to hang out with you either. I’m a decent-looking guy. But the chicks aren’t looking at me when we’re together. So you’re cockblocking me just as clearly as I’m cockblocking you. You look like you’re taken, and I look like everybody’s second choice.”

“I’m glad we hang out anyway.”

“Yeah. Me too. But it’s a death sentence for our sex lives.”

Now, as he lay on his back staring into the dark on the early morning of May second, Sam realized he was content. He might never have more, but he had this funny sidekick who noticed when he was having a bad day and who texted to say happy birthday, but understood he might not want to celebrate it, and that was obviously more than that seventeen year old Sam had ever had. He didn’t want to know who that kid had been. Obviously, he wasn’t worth knowing.

***


	2. May 2 in Lawrence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean isn't ready to give up hope.

He was not so sure about the Ash guy. The party in the back thing had never impressed Dean, and he wasn't even sure there was much business in the front either. But when the other one joined them, he began to feel better about having contacted them.

"Here's the man now. Castiel Seraphim, meet Dean Winchester."

The guy looked a bit disheveled, but at least he was in a suit. "Yes," Castiel said curtly. "I apologize for being somewhat late. I'd like to know what I've missed."

Dean liked that. He was a straight to the point kind of guy himself. "Ash says you two specialize in finding people who have been missing a long time. Birth families for adopted kids who have medical issues, stuff like that."

Castiel nodded once. "We do what we can. It's your brother?"

He took a deep breath. "That's right. He's been missing since he was fifteen. Seven years ago."

"That's quite a long time,"  
Castiel said quietly. "And he is an adult now. Not to mention that a child changes a great deal between fifteen and twenty-two."

Dean could feel his heart sinking. "I know. But I've done everything I can think to do. And I gotta do this one last thing. I'll never stop looking for his face in a crowd, you know? But if we do this, and we can't find him...I just gotta know I tried everything."

"What do you suspect caused the disappearance in the first place?"

A fury he would never be able to drown rose up in him now. "Oh, I know exactly what caused it. He was kicked out on his ass by my fucking father."

Ash glanced at his partner, then looked away quickly. "Okay. Why?"

Dean had known he would have to tell the story. These men would need everything they could learn about Sam if they had any hope of locating him. That did not make it easier to talk about.

Castiel nodded. "We will come back to that. Dean, where do you truly think your brother is?"

Green eyes lifted, and a deep sorrow filled him. He had never said these words aloud before. Not ever. "I think..."

They waited.

"I think he's probably dead," he whispered hoarsely. "I think if he were out there someplace, he would have found a way to contact me."

Castiel nodded again, as though he agreed that was the most likely scenario.

Dean flinched. "The first two years, I was deployed overseas, and I got letters from him every few weeks. No mention of Dad, but everything else was normal kid stuff, I thought. And he always seemed to be posting letters from a different city, but always had a reason why. Field trip to Topeka, wish you could see it. Road trip with a buddy to Illinois, wish you were here too. He never told me...never said what Dad put him through. Then, five years back, it just stopped. Nothing. I tried contacting my dad, and he just said Sam moved out and that he didn't want to hear his name again. I screamed and threatened, but I got nothing. When I finally came home..."

The expressive blue eyes before him seemed to know what he was going to say.

"When I finally came home, I got it out of a family friend, who had gotten it out of Dad when he was drunk enough. Sammy had just turned fifteen. Dad walked in on him with a boyfriend, making out, I guess. And Dad went nuclear."

"So he kicked him out of the house."

Dean gave a bitter, humorless laugh. "No, not yet. Spent months trying to beat it out of the kid first. And when this family friend found out he'd sent Sammy to one of those reparative clinics where they shock and brainwash the gay away, well, that's when Bobby found the kid and handed him twelve hundred dollars cash and told him to get someplace safe. Sam called Dad once, gave him another chance, because..." Dean scowled against the tears. "Because that's my little brother, always trying to think everybody deserves one more chance, and Dad told him if he ran, he better never come back."

Ash sighed. "Nice old man you got there."

"Yeah," Dean agreed. "You know, he wasn't like that way back. I mean, I don't know. Maybe he was. But he kind of lost his mind when..." He choked back a sob. "It don't matter. What matters is I've looked for years, and I've done everything I can think to do, and I just can't not know anymore. I just can't..." He sighed and ran his hands down his face in sheer exhaustion. "I just can't not know anymore." He drew in a long, shuddered breath and looked back up at them. "So whatever it takes. Probably screwing myself over here saying this, but I don't care. Whatever it takes, whatever it costs. Find my brother or find a reason for me to stop looking."

Ash looked into Castiel's face as the other man watched Dean's. "Cas makes the call," he explained quietly. "Want me to research and we'll get back to him?"

Castiel's eyes stayed steady on Dean's. "No," he said finally. "We'll do it. He knows not to expect a miracle, and he knows it's going to be expensive. He wants his brother back. Let's see what we can do."

The first man smiled in surprise. "Great! Okay, buddy, you and I will work out details. Cas, I'll call you-"

Castiel stood and nodded at Dean. "Be available to take my call at any moment. I will check in with you by email only. If I call, I have something or I need something."

Dean put his hands up and cleared his throat. "Yes. Okay, yeah."

"Ash, send everything to my phone in twenty minutes." With that, the man stalked back out of the diner, without even having ordered a coffee.

The mullethead smiled. "That's Cas. He's already working on it in his head. Don't like to get bothered by things like you paying us for our work. Speaking of which...?"

"Oh!" Dean reached for his wallet. "Yeah. Let's talk."

The entire time he and Ash hammered out a contract between them, Dean felt his heart rising with hope which he had tried his hardest to kill over the last few years. He had seen the look on Castiel's face. He was no sleazy private Dick. According to Ash, he was a former cop who had been injured on the job, but who wasn't finished helping people. He was in high demand, especially with Ash's skill set, and he only took jobs which met his specific criteria. No cheating wives. No jilted lovers. He brought families together. What those families did after that was up to them.

For the first time in years, Dean thought he might finally get somewhere with this.

_Happy birthday, Sammy. Wherever you are._


	3. Team Dean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> May 2-3

For his transgressions against the plates the night before, Sam was given grill duty during the rush. By the time things began slowing down, he was entirely spent. Andy was off tonight, and Jake had Sundays off every week. Toward the end of the night, Meg's snark had nearly made him wish he were a server instead of in the kitchen. But he knew better. His anxiety couldn't handle being out front.

After he and Meg had scrubbed the kitchen down wearily, they collapsed in a pile at the bar. Ava laughed at them. "Before they start bitching, I'm cashing out."

"Massacre in Nigeria today," Tessa muttered at them, or to herself, as she passed two whiskey sours to the cooks. "Bunch of Christians murdered over six hundred Muslims."

Sam sighed. "Tessa, you always have the most depressing news for us at the end of the shift."

She shrugged. "I read the paper. I watch the news. People talk to me all night long. I hear things."

"About death," Meg added from her position face down in her arms on the bar. "You hear things about death."

"Usually. Would you rather know how I think the fourth season of Gilmore Girls is going to end up?"

"There are four seasons of that stuff?" Sam muttered.

"It's compelling," Tessa said in her soft, dry tone. "Tuesday should be interesting. Lorelai and Jason are done. Richard and Emily too."

"Dean in the next one? I only watch for Dean," Meg said. She still did not bother to lift her head.

"I think so. He wasn't in last week's. But there are only three episodes left. I bet they'll have him in all three."

"They haven't used him enough this season. How am I supposed to get my Dean fix?"

"He is gorgeous," Tessa agreed. She went to work cashing out her drawer.

"Dean?" Sam frowned severely.

Meg finally peeked out of her arms. "Sam kind of looks like Dean, doesn't he? Sam, anybody ever tell you that you look like Dean from Gilmore Girls?"

Tessa glanced at him, then shook her head at Meg. "Not tall enough."

It was probably the first time anyone had ever told him he was not tall enough. But he couldn't be sure.

"Hey, Sam? You okay?"

"His name is Dean?"

"Yeah. So? The guy that plays him-"

He stood suddenly. "Look, I'm tired. My head's kind of swimming. We need to get that fan over the grill fixed right this time..."

The women were staring at him as he wandered into the kitchen and tossed his white coat into the bin to be washed. He could feel them watching him as he stumbled out the door into the parking lot. Then he could hear one running up behind him.

"Hey! Cleveland! You are some kind of freak, you know that? Slow down. What's wrong with you?"

"I don't know."

"Really?" she said doubtfully. "Because you just had some kind of weird allergic reaction to talk of The Gilmore Girls."

"I did not."

Meg laughed uneasily. "Okay. But yeah, you did. You kept muttering to yourself."

Sam stopped in front of his jeep. "I did?"

She stared. She ran a hand through her short hair, which was mostly brown this week, with shocks of purple flowing through it. "Seriously. Are you okay? You wandered the kitchen and bar for like five minutes, and wouldn't talk to us, but you kept muttering about Dean and his girls and Jess. I mean, look, we're all Team Jess, but that's just because Dean is way too hot for Rory. And Dean kind of needs to loosen up."

He suspected Meg might be attempting to communicate with him, but it was hard to tell. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

Meg nodded and let out a long breath. "Okay. I know you're not stoned because I've been with you all night. You on some kind of medication?"

"No. I just..." Sam stopped. "Meg, what did I say exactly?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. You babbled about Dean would have liked Jess, that Jess was a good guy. You were wondering where Jess is now, if you could go see him."

"That doesn't make any sense."

"Yeah. That's why I called it babble. I'd like to climb around inside that melon of yours one day, Cleveland. Maybe figure out if you're even for real."

"Yeah," he sighed. "I'm starting to think maybe I'm not."

"You okay to drive?"

"Sure. Yeah, of course."

Meg licked her lips and sighed. "Yeah. You say that like you didn't just have an aneurism about a television show you claim not to watch."

Sam could feel himself turning deeper shades of red. "I'm good. I'm sorry I freaked you out. I'm just gonna..."

And he stopped again.

"Gonna call Dean," he whispered. He hurried to unlock his car door to jump in.

"You know he's fictional, right?" Meg called after him.

Sam was on his phone before he had even pulled out.

"Hello? Sam?"

"Dean?"

"What? Sam, what's wrong? It's the middle of the night, man. You okay?"

"Dean, where are you?"

There was a pause on the other end, and he felt his heart racing. Then the voice spoke again. "Sam, it's Andy, man. Okay? What did you take, dude? Where are you? You need me to come get you?"

Sam blinked hard at the road. "Andy. No, I...Andy, I'm getting confused."

"Okay. It's okay. Are you at your place?"

"Almost. Just got off work. Nothing seems right."

"Okay. I'm gonna be there in like fifteen, yeah? Just worry about getting home. We'll get you figured out after that."

"Thank you." Sam felt a strange panic building. "Andy?" he whispered then. "Can you just...just talk for a few minutes till I can get home?"

"Dude, I can always talk. It's what I do."

So Sam listened, and focused on Andy's voice. Sam often let Andy do the talking when they hung out. It was nice that Andy didn't need him to do much other than listen and laugh at his jokes. He especially liked it when Andy told him about his college philosophy courses. Some days, it made Sam think maybe he could handle taking a few courses himself. But he wasn't smart like Andy was. So he was happy just to listen.

When he reached the apartment, the disorientation was fading. Things had started to feel real again. And before long, Andy was there, knocking to be let in.

"Hey," he said quietly. "You feeling any better?"

"Yeah. You didn't really have to come. I'm so sorry. Meg is right. I'm some kind of freak."

Andy shrugged with a smile. "That's okay. You're my kind of freak."

He smiled back sheepishly. "Does that make it better or worse?"

"Oh, worse. Definitely. But you're what Ford Prefect would call mostly harmless."

"I don't know what that..."

"Dude, we have got to get you reading Douglas Addams."

"Who is that?"

"Only the most important philosopher of our time."

Sam nodded. "Okay. I'll look him up."

Andy planted himself on the couch and reached for the can of mixed nuts Sam kept in stock just for him. "Okay. Tell me. You're obviously not high. So what? Anxiety attack or something?"

"I...I guess." As well as he could, he described what had happened after his shift.

"The weirdest part of all that is that you seem to be Team Jess."

Sam shook his head in annoyance. "I don't watch the show, asshole."

"Clearly. She's meant to be with Dean."

He stared at his friend for a moment, then sighed. "You're even weirder than I am."

"I think we both already knew that." Andy popped several pieces into his mouth, then spoke again in a softer voice. "Okay, so you think you're remembering something?"

Sam chewed on his lip. He wanted a beer, but it was past midnight. "I don't know. Nothing useful. The name Dean, it meant something. But haven't I heard that in the past five years? Why is it just now shocking something out of me?"

"And you said Dean would like Jess," Andy prompted.

"I don't know," he groaned, throwing himself onto the opposite couch. "I think I'm just screwed up in a brand new way. I'm a whole new level of freak."

"Hey, hey. So you started to remember something but it didn't stick. That's okay. Maybe more will come and maybe it won't. For now, don't try to force it, okay?"

"Easy for you to say," Sam mumbled. "You weren't born a seventeen year old. Or eighteen."

Andy's eyebrows peaked. "Wow. I had not thought of it that way."

"How else can I think of it? I know how to do stuff. I know the language. But in all other ways, I was born five years ago. I guess I should just be glad I can speak English, right?"

"Even if it is a bit Kansan or Texan."

"Last week you claimed I was from Missouri."

"We should get a linguist to listen to you talk. I bet it's Texas."

"Why the hell would I wake up in Ohio?" Sam shook his head. "Whatever. It doesn't matter. If I remembered something, it's gone now. Whoever Jess and Dean were, they're not here. If they even existed at all."

"You think they could be family?"

Sam considered. "Then why wouldn't they know each other? No, I don't know." He ran his hands down his face. "I'm so tired. I need to sleep."

"I'm going to crash on your couch, and then in the morning I'm going to smoke all the weed I brought you last time I was here."

"Of course you are. Help yourself. And...thank you for being here."

"Hey, gotta keep all the crazy under one roof, right?"

Sam smiled wearily. "Yeah."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On May 2, 2004, there really was a horrible massacre in Nigeria. At least 630 Muslims were killed by Christians. 
> 
> Also, by May 2, 2004, the 19th episode of Gilmore Girls' fourth season had aired. Jared played Dean in the last three episodes of the season. 
> 
> I've never seen Gilmore Girls, btw. But I like research. 
> 
> ~Posing


	4. Midnight Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean POV  
> &  
> Castiel POV

Dean stumbled into the house with one arm flung around Benny's shoulders for support. The big guy was carrying at least a third of his weight for him. They both groaned as Benny finally deposited him onto the couch inside. 

"You are putting on weight, chief," he grumbled. 

"It's all beer," Dean sighed as he stretched out and kicked off his boots. There was no point in pretending he wouldn't be sleeping right there tonight. 

"Happy drunk Dean is enough of a pain in my ass. Moody drunk Dean makes me wonder why I hang out with you."

Dean shrugged. "I saved your life."

"You gonna hold that over me?" Benny teased back. 

"You think he's dead, Lafitte?"

Benny heaved a sigh and shook his head. He dropped into the chair across from his buddy. "I don't know, man."

"He was such a good kid, you know? So smart. That kid was going someplace. You know where I looked for him?"

"Everywhere," he responded, letting his eyes close. 

"Damn right. But I must've called and visited every college. First one I hit? Stanford. Where he always wanted to go. Wanted so bad to see that he found some way to make it there. Did you know a college can't tell a guy if his brother is there or not? Privacy shit or something. The stuff you gotta do to get around..."

Benny seemed to notice he had faded off. He opened his eyes. "You gonna puke?"

"Shut up. It's midnight."

"It's way past that, brother."

"But it's midnight again."

"Ah." Benny closed his eyes. 

Dean stared at the clock. He could probably have figured the time zones if he were sober. But it was two o'clock, which meant that somewhere it was turning midnight. Somewhere west. Like Stanford or someplace. 

"Happy birthday, kiddo," he murmured to himself, since Benny had started to snore. "I hope you're safe." He choked down a sob. "I hope you're happy. I hope you know I want you back."

***

What was so interesting about Castiel's job was that there was a distinct difference between someone who was missing because he was hiding and someone who was missing because he thought no one was looking for him. Someone who was hiding was covering his tracks, planning his moves. But a kid who figured nobody wanted him didn't bother to do those things. 

Ash's job was research. He checked hospitals, cemeteries, yearbooks, prisons, social media, church directories and military rosters. 

Castiel followed the story. 

The first step of hunting was to figure out who you're dealing with. 

He had already concluded that Sam was not running. Sam was wandering. There was an enormous difference. He had lied to his brother when he had sent him letters indicating that everything was normal. But that was clearly because Dean was in a dangerous part of the world, and Sam didn't want to burden him with his problems. Deceptive and smart, but not malicious or manipulative. 

The abrupt end to the communication with his brother was the best reason to think the kid was dead, in prison, or otherwise incapacitated. But if so, Ash would find out. It was Castiel's job to assume the kid was out there somewhere.

He started in the last place someone had actually seen Sam. 

Last Hope would have been better named Abandon All Hope. It made Castiel's skin crawl just walking through the door. This was not just a "pray the gay away" camp, which was degrading and dehumanizing enough. This was a shock therapy and reprogramming clinic. It made Castiel's stomach turn. 

Naomi would have approved of this place. 

"Hello. I'm Castiel Seraphim. I'm looking into the disappearance of a young man who was once a resident here."

The woman behind the desk frowned. "We normally don't give out information about our guests."

Guests. Castiel smirked. Guests were free to go. Prisoners were locked in. "Of course. But this would be back seven years ago. I know he was here. All I need is to know the circumstances of his discharge."

She sighed. "Okay. We'll see what I can find. What is the name?"

"Sam Winchester." As the woman pecked at her keyboard, Castiel took a breath and continued. "What can you tell me about this place?"

She smiled. "We are a caring, supportive environment for individuals afflicted by mental illness. We have had great success in rehabilitating deviant behavior and unnatural urges. The rate of recidivism is extremely low among our patients."

Recidivism! Castiel bit back his disgust. Recidivism referred to reoffending criminals. 

Castiel himself, of course, had been kicked out of his home and family when he was seventeen. A sick part of him needled into his heart, whispered that Naomi had never cared enough about him to want to cure him of his disease. She was not concerned about his recovery. She didn't want him back healthy and normal. She had just wanted him gone. He was too broken to be fixed. 

He had not thought of her as his mother for many years. Her husband's opinion held no sway over his emotions. Zack was a tool and little else, with his fake, sleazy smile and cold eyes, the manipulative way he had wormed into the family after Castiel's father had disappeared. But Naomi. It was dishonest to pretend the memory of her indifference did not still hurt. 

"Interesting," Castiel coughed out. "So what sorts of methods do you use?"

"All sorts. The therapists incorporate the latest theories and technologies into their treatment with patients. Here he is. Yes, Sam was here a long while back. You need a copy of his file?"

Castiel nodded. "Please." He was glad that this woman seemed to have entirely forgotten the privacy policy. He could have convinced her, or gone through legal means, but that would have taken time he could better spend elsewhere.

And he did not want to spend another moment in this place where Sam Winchester had been treated as a criminal because his father could not accept the real him.


	5. Alias

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Also known as Ash.

Ash knew better than to bother Castiel while he was working. The man had the dedication of a saint and the temper of an attack dog. But Ash liked to watch him work.

After getting kicked out of MIT for brawling, Ash had wandered aimlessly. For the most part, he spent Sundays and Wednesdays living the life of the holy roller and the other five days living as a genius level bar fly. Between snake handling and pool table naps, he indulged in profitable hacking ventures. He did odd jobs here and there, fixing computers, mainly, setting up security systems, but his heart was never in it. He wanted a challenge that was worth his time.

Then one day, Castiel Seraphim had crash-landed into his life. The eccentric blew into Harvelle's like an angel out of Hell, coat flowing like wings behind him. His hair was disheveled, his tie askew, and his eyes flashed with blue purpose.

Ash knew in that second he'd finally been caught.

Castiel's gaze settled right on him. "William Miles?"

"Shit." He grinned sheepishly at Ellen and Jo, the only others in the bar at the moment. "They call me Ash around here, buddy. Though I prefer Dr. Badass."

Castiel was unimpressed. Over the next three years, Ash learned Castiel was never impressed. "I have a client who is interested in a William Miles."

Ash did not bother running. He just waved at poor shocked Jo for another beer. "You want to let me finish a drink before you hand me over, buddy?"

It looked as though Castiel had expected a chase, or perhaps a denial. "That...should be fine," he responded slowly.

"Come sit with me and tell me who sent you. Was it Raphael or Roman?"

Castiel frowned deeply. He took an awkward step toward the bar, then considered before finally sitting two stools down from his target.

Ash snickered at the caution. "I'm a hacker, dude, not an axe murderer."

"Dick Roman hired me to find you. He said you...breached a contract."

Jo and Ellen stood watching in silence. Ash smiled to reassure them it wasn't going to be necessary for either of them to grab a shotgun.

"Yeah. He tell you what the contract was? Or didn't you ask that part?"

Blue eyes blinked at him.

"Wanted me to break into the FDA and get some of his company's new additives approved. Easy enough to mess with some files that nobody at the FDA had even looked at yet. Make a few tweaks here and there to ensure success. But I don't like messing with people's food. So I tried to back away, but what are the odds I see all his plans and big Dick lets me live anyway?" He watched the horror settle on Castiel's face. "Yeah. See? Didn't ask enough questions, did you? You met him, now you met me, who is telling you the truth?"

Castiel nodded slowly. "I can see that you are. And you're right that Roman did not have to lie because I didn't ask questions. I find people. It's what I do. It's none of my business why someone is missing."

"Well, that's bullshit."

He looked up in surprise. "Excuse me?"

Ash laughed and gulped his beer. "Buddy, I'd like you to meet Ellen Harvelle, lovely owner of this here roadhouse."

Ellen's hand was on her hip, and even tough as nails Jo took a step back. "That's a bunch of bullshit. If you're an asshole, fine. That makes sense. But you clearly aren't. So don't pretend that not knowing is the same as not needing to know. You take a job that's going to screw up somebody's life, you better know who you're working for. You could tell in twenty-five seconds this kid ain't a criminal."

Ash winced.

"Well. Ain't the kind of criminal that this guy apparently wanted him to be. He never hurt nobody. And I can see on your face you know that's the truth. And I can also see you got yourself a conscience. Must be a real hindrance in your field. If you didn't care who Ash was, or why this guy wanted him, you wouldn't have approached him. You'd just have told your client where to find him. Which means..."

Jo spoke up then. "Which means you already had a notion that something wasn't right about this job."

The man, who had seemed so powerful and clear of purpose before was now staring at them all with uncertainty. He took a breath. "All right, Mr. Miles. Tell me everything I need to know in order to convince me that Dick Roman has no right to know you're still alive."

Ash grinned, and Ellen hurried to pour drinks.

It was the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

Their partnership had developed overnight. Ash was quirky, Castiel was eccentric, and the Harvelle ladies kept them both grounded. Since Castiel was entirely nomadic, they made the roadhouse their base. Ash legally killed off William Miles, and Castiel pretended not to notice, then reported the death to Dick Roman. Ash showed him how he could design a program to scour cemeteries, death records and prison records for variations on the names of his targets.

"That might help immensely," Castiel said quietly. He licked his lips. "I would be willing to pay you well for that. When it is up and running, could I give you a name to test?"

Ash closed one eye to do some calculations. "Uh, yeah, give me, uh...fifty-one hours. What's the name?"

Castiel swallowed hard. "Carver Seraphim. Alias Chuck Shirley. Alias Carver Edlund."

"Seraphim. Like you. So...alias your dad?"

Castiel smiled tightly. "Fifty-one hours. I'll give you a thousand dollars if you can make this program work. Then we can talk about payment for future work."

Ash suspected Castiel would have given him anything if his program had found Carver.

The hunter was a strange guy. He was unaccustomed to time spent not working. Every waking moment was devoted to his jobs. And he despised the act of finding a job. That became Ash's responsibility in no time. Ash was to find the jobs, vet the clients, hammer out a contract and run names through his programs to find matches. In many cases, Castiel barely needed to get involved at all, except to be the one to tell the client their loved one had been killed in a car accident while in Boston, or was currently serving time in a minimum security facility for theft. Ash paid their bills. Castiel broke the bad news.

It also became Ash's personal mission to make Castiel have fun now and then. He and Ellen had introduced the man to a variety of women at the roadhouse. Once, when he had gotten Castiel extremely drunk, he had discovered why it had never worked. He was on his sixth PBR, but Castiel had taken out most of Ellen's private whiskey bottle, when the man had leaned into him.

"Hey there, Cas! You're going to fall out!"

Castiel shook his head languidly. "Ash, you know what's horrible?"

"You on jäger springs to mind. You on whiskey is kind of adorable though."

"Jäger means hunter. It's true. It's a true story. Did you know that?"

"Damn, you're skunked."

Castiel had bristled. "No such!"

Ash laughed. His own buzz was swimming nicely in his head. "What's horrible, Cas?"

"Finding people all the time. I'm good at it."

"Crazy good. The best."

"Crazy good," Castiel agreed. "That's it, that's the words for it. I'm crazy good at finding people. And-but I never found anyone for me. You know? I can find anybody for anybody. Why can't I find one for me?"

"One what?"

Castiel shrugged, looking down at his drink moodily. "A good man. I don't like you, but you're a good man, and I like you. Too bad you're so straight."

He burst into laughter, prompting Jo to look up from her paper. "Mystery solved!" he announced cheerfully.

"What's that?" Jo called.

"Cas is gay!"

Castiel frowned at him. "Was there a time that you thought maybe I wasn't?"

"So you don't like me but you like me."

The other man sighed. "You're a good man, Ash. You're just not my type. Kind of wish you were. Kind of wish I were. Your type, you know? Just go have a night of amazing sex and say we were drunk and never talk of it again."

Jo giggled. "I'm going to think about that in the shower later."

Ash grinned and winked at her. "Cas, I don't think a night of drunk sex with a straight dude is going to solve your problem."

"But I like sex."

"Okay. Lots of folks like sex."

"Everybody likes sex," Castiel sighed, sipping at his drink.

Ash laughed again. "Not everybody. I'm not so into it myself."

Castiel looked at him oddly. "With guys, you mean. I know you're straight, Ash."

"Yeah. I'm straight. But still not so into sex."

The hand raised to wave him off. "That has got to be the worst rejection I've ever gotten, and I wasn't even actual about propositioning you."

Teasing Castiel about "being actual" about something became one of Ash's favorite things after that night. But he continued to laugh. "I'm not! It's not about letting you down easy, dude. I'm just not into sex. I'm all for other folks getting it, dude. But it just isn't something I love."

Castiel watched him for a moment, and then opened his mouth to speak.

Jo had returned her gaze to her paper. "Don't do it. Don't tell him he just hasn't had the right kind of sex. Don't tell him he can't know till he's had really great sex. We'll be here all night. He's going to lecture from the pool table. Don't do it."

Ash nearly spat his beer cackling.

He gave a disgusted look to Jo. "I wasn't going to say that. I was going to suggest that he instead donate his sperm. He owes it to humanity to procreate and pass on his genius, and if he doesn't like sex, I don't know how else that can happen."

At this, Ash and Jo both toppled over with laughter. Ash righted himself and touched Castiel's shoulder. When the man turned, he placed a sweet kiss on his partner's lips. Castiel stared in shock. Ash smirked at him. "There. That's as much as most people get from me." He grinned at Jo. "Soft lips," he reported.

Castiel had sighed wistfully. "I don't think it's too much to ask that I find a good man who likes moody, awkward workaholics who hit on straight, asexual guys when they're drunk, and who appreciate even pity kisses." He smirked at Ash. "Which we will never again talk about in daylight while sober."

Ash winked at him.

The man tossed back the last of his drink. His blurry eyes were full of blue misery. "I've got to be somebody's type, right? Get me that client, Ash. Put me on that job.  That's the guy I want to find."

So now he watched Castiel pouring over the Sam Winchester files, and Ash felt a fondness for this man he had rarely felt for any other human, aside from the Harvelles. Castiel would always be his best friend, and he would never cease to amaze him. Sometimes when he looked so intense and dedicated, Ash wished he could take a photo and put it up on some website somewhere, maybe a billboard, because some gay man out there really should know what he was missing. It had been two and a half years since Castiel had admitted to being lonely. And he was just as alone as he had been back then. Ash, Ellen and Jo were all the guy had, and Ash could tell Castiel had pretty much given up hope on ever having anything else.

"Ash, you're lurking."

He smiled. "Found you something."

"Do you have pants on?"

He glanced down to be sure. "Yup."

His partner turned around to look at him. "What do you have for me?"

Ash held up a paper. "A hospital record. In Cleveland."

Castiel began to smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ash = William Miles  
> (Ash Williams = Evil Dead, Miles was the original name for Ash in scripts, and in Jo's Journal.)
> 
> Just so you see my thought process in action.


	6. Brother Mine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bit of hope...

It was a week before Sam felt right in his own skin again, longer before Meg and Tessa stopped watching him as if he were going to have a breakdown at any random moment. But Andy was supportive without being smothering, and he appreciated that.

Mid-May, twelve days after freaking out over some fictional character names, Sam had a project, and it was a great distraction. Two projects, actually.

For one thing, Andy had convinced him to take his GED. Since there wasn't any record of his high school transcripts, he had no way of continuing if he did not test through. So he had bought himself several GED prep workbooks and was anxious to break them out and see what he could do. He was more than a little afraid he would not be capable of anything in the workbooks at all. Andy said he was smart but Andy always thought the best of everyone. Maybe Sam was an idiot. Maybe the reason there was no sign he had graduated high school was that he had dropped out when he realized he was too dumb to continue. He wouldn't know until he opened the books.

The second project was his role in Andy's date with Ava. Sam had learned from Ruby that Ava's fiancé had backed down and taken off. When he had mentioned it to Andy, the man had blushed. Sam was certain that Ava had the capacity to be a real bitch if she got angry enough, but for the most part, she was a sweetheart. And Andy liked her.

So tonight was the night. They were all off at the restaurant, and Sam was providing the movie night at his apartment. Andy shared space with Ansem, and it was not the ideal place to bring a girl. Sam got the movie Andy had wanted all set up, and ordered pizza. When the bell rang, he was ready.

"Hey! Come on in!" he said. "Glad you came!" It was odd. No one other than Andy had been in his apartment. It was weird.

Ava smiled as Andy held the door for her, Lily and Lily's girlfriend Charlie. Sam knew Ava's housemates a little. Lily was quiet, but Charlie was a blast.

"Food's on the coffee table; help yourselves! I've got pizza and popcorn and cokes and waters. And I have a movie marathon ready."

"What are we watching?" Charlie asked.

"Raiders," Andy responded. "Ava never saw any of the Indiana Jones movies. Sam and I love them."

"Ooh," Charlie laughed. "Me too! Great choice! I haven't seen it for years!"

"Yeah," Sam said. "It was one of my brother's favorites when we were kids." He grabbed a soda and sat on the edge of the couch to turn on the movie. "Hope you guys don't mind. I'm going to watch it all from the dinner table back here. I'm studying a little."

Ava smiled at him. "As long as you don't mind us vegging out on your couches."

"No, go on! I can see from back here!"

But as soon as the girls were comfortable and watching the movie, Sam looked up from his workbook to find Andy dropping into the seat beside him.

"What are you doing?" he whispered. "Shouldn't you be on the couch? With Ava?"

Andy was watching him with a strange expression on his face. "Yeah. You just told Charlie this movie was your brother's favorite."

Sam stared at him. "What? Why would I say that?"

"Maybe it's true."

"But I don't..." Then, all of the sudden, Sam was filled with the same feeling as when he first remembered being called Sam. It felt right. There was truth here. "I have a brother," he whispered cautiously.

"You think that's who Dean or Jess is?"

"Jess isn't a brother kind of name, is it? Dean. That's a brother's name. Doesn't that sound like a brother's name?"

Andy rolled his eyes. "No. Ansem sounds like a brother's name. But if you grew up with a Dean, yeah, I guess so."

Sam sat back in his chair. He was suddenly filled with too many emotions. "It's the first thing I've known, other than my name and birthday. I have a brother Dean. Who didn't care enough about me to wonder where I've been all this time."

His friend sighed heavily. "Maybe you two weren't that close. I mean, if Evil Ansem stepped off the planet, I'd probably wonder about him, worry about him, but honestly, I'd probably just let it alone."

Sam nodded slowly. "Yeah. Maybe. But it was almost better thinking I didn't have anybody at all. I've wondered about family all along, but I never felt so strongly that there's a brother out there before. And now I just wish I didn't know."

Andy's face was twisted with sympathy. "Look, you're not Ansem, okay? You're not an asshole."

"Maybe not now. Maybe that's who I was back then. Maybe there's something about me...something in me...Maybe I was a monster back then and I don't remember, but they do. Maybe this Dean guy is glad I'm gone."

***

"Dude, you gotta decide. I mean, the offer ain't going to last forever."

Dean shook his head. "They'll give me a few more weeks."

Cole sat back at his desk and sighed. "And what's that going to change, man? Look, I'm sorry about what happened with your family. I really am. But you haven't found the kid in five years. What makes you think a few more weeks will make the difference? This is a lot of money, Deano. And it's what you're good at. Let's be honest. Some guys don't ever transition back to civilian life."

The man sighed. "I've been fine. And I'm on base. Ain't like I'm a real civilian."

"Yeah? How much you like living at base and doing desk work? That doing it for you?"

Dean scowled irritably.

"You can't live the rest of your life in Purgatory because he could show up again one day. Dean-"

"Not Purgatory," Dean snapped as he stood. "Hell. And yeah. I can. If there's a chance he's out there someplace, thinking he's all alone, I will put my life on hold as long as it takes. This company wants to deploy me out to do security in a war zone, they sure better wait till I'm ready to give it my full attention. If they gotta find somebody else-"

"You'll what? You'll keep working a desk full time and working under hoods part time? Put your life on hold forever?"

"You have no idea what you're talking about," he snarled. "That kid is my life. He's my family. The only family I ever had and the only family I will ever have."

Cole nodded sadly. "Me and Benny-"

Dean's eyes softened. "Look, I just gotta see this through. If by the end of summer I still got nothing...I'll sign a contract. I miss action, Trenton, you know I do, but I just can't go back to the Middle East knowing he's out there somewhere waiting for me to find him."

"Why hasn't he found you, man?" Cole asked in the gentlest tone he could manage. "If he's out there?"

Emotion choked him, and for a moment, he could not respond. Then he glowered through the tears. "Probably because he don't want to," he spat. "But I don't know that for sure. And until I do...Last time I left him behind, I was in Kosovo when my dad beat the shit out of him, and when he got sent away to be repaired, then I was in Iraq when he finally got himself away from all that." Dean's voice broke. "That man made him think there was something wrong with him, sent him to get fixed like something was broken. And for all he knows..." He sucked in his breath. "For all Sam knows, I feel the same way my father did. I'm not heading back to Iraq before I got closure on my family. Not if there's a chance he's still out there needing me, if he's been staying away because he thinks I think he's too broken for us to be brothers. I can't, Cole."

Cole put his hand on Dean's arm then. "Okay, man. I know. Of course you can't. Look, there's a guy who helped me when I was trying to find my dad. Maybe...maybe he can help you too."

A month later, Dean was staring at his phone as it rang in his trembling hand. He dropped the greasy, olive green rag and stumbled out of the garage. "Castiel," he choked. "Please tell me..." He stopped then. Suddenly, he did not want to know. He realized all at once that he could not handle hearing. If Sam was dead...

"We've got a good, strong lead. Can you talk right now?"

Not dead. Not dead, not yet. That call might come, but this wasn't it. He could breathe again. "Yes. Absolutely, yes!"

Castiel's deep voice came clearly through the line, but it took Dean time to process what he was saying. His mind was trying to work through the fog and over the cacophony of his heartbeat. The first lead on Sam in years...

"Can you...say that again?"

The other man did not seem surprised to be asked to repeat himself. "Dean, your brother was checked into a hospital in Cleveland for burns and lacerations in late 1999. Then there was a John Doe there not a year later, same first name and birthday, same approximate age, height and so forth."

"Cleveland," Dean breathed. "He was...he was there in '99, and you think he was back at the same hospital months later?"

"There's a good chance."

"But why would he be a John Doe? I don't understand. If he gave his name the first time..."

"The second time, Dean, he had been hit while walking across a busy intersection, and he didn't wake up with any memory of his life details, including his own last name."

Dean drew in a sharp breath, then could not exhale. He dropped onto the ground against the wall outside the garage in a hard sit. "He...he don't know who he is."

"If he's your Sam."

"But wouldn't that...I mean, I didn't think that was like...Can that be permanent?"

Castiel's voice was quieter now. "Rarely. But yes. I researched it a bit. He had a brain injury. It shouldn't affect much else, but his memories...They could have come back or he may never get them back."

Even crouching on the ground, he was lightheaded. "Okay." He tried to force himself to focus. He had been under fire in some of the worst situations imaginable. He could handle this. "Okay," he said again. "What's next?"

"I go to Cleveland," Castiel said simply. "I see what I can find out about where the John Doe went after discharge. Because of his situation and his physical condition, he likely would have headed for some occupational and perhaps even psychological therapy. If I can just find out what name he used after...Dean, we may have him."

Emotion was suffocating him. He took shallow, jagged breaths, but it wasn't enough. "How soon?" he croaked out.

There was a smile in the man's voice, the first he had heard yet. "I'm on my way, Dean. Ash is making arrangements for a motel as we speak."

Dean barked out a laugh. "Don't stay cheap, man. You find my brother, and you're going to be family to me for the rest of my life." Tears splattered onto the gravel below his boots. "You find that kid I raised, and I'm going to put you up at the fucking Ritz. You hear me?"

There was a soft laugh. "I still have a lot of work to do, Dean. There's almost five years to account for. We are just hoping for a name right now."

Green eyes closed, causing a new stream of tears to escape his long lashes. "Thank you, Cas. Thank you. Anything you can do."

"I'll do anything I can, Dean. I make no promises."

He nodded. "I know. But I haven't had any hope in a very long time. I might be sorry later, but I'm going to let myself enjoy that for a while."

"I'll report in by email, unless there's something definite."

"Call me no matter what time. I will be in my car on my way before you can hang up."


	7. Smoke and Clarity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel closes in, just as Sam closes up.

After the fourth time the manager insisted she could only be compelled to give any information with a court order, Castiel sighed and thanked her for her time. He didn't blame her. It was her job to protect the privacy of former patients. It was just easier on him when he could talk people out of that policy. In some cases, revealing information to him was against the law. But it was disturbing just how many doctors, hotel clerks, and even lawyers could be convinced to give just enough to get Castiel what he needed.

Castiel stepped out of the clinic and sighed. For the first time in about four years, ever since he had left the force, he was longing for a cigarette with more than just a passing craving. Something about this job was hitting him close to home, and it wasn't difficult to figure what it was. This kid's story wasn't all that different from his own. The difference, of course, was that he remembered every painful minute of it.

For a brief moment, Castiel thought his craving was so intense that he was imagining the smell of cigarette smoke. Then he saw the older woman standing against the wall outside the clinic, puffing nervously. He made himself look away and take a step toward the car.

"Hey."

His eyes cut toward her. She had been standing behind the manager while Castiel had been asking questions.

"You really think that kid has family somewhere that wants him?"

Castiel sighed in relief. "I know he does. If he's the Sam we are looking for, he has an older brother who is desperate to reunite with him, to see if he needs help."

She nodded slowly. "And you wouldn't ever have to say where you heard anything, right?"

"I'll tell both brothers an angel spoke to me."

She seemed pleased by this. "He was a good kid. Came for months, because his shoulder was pretty messed up. But I remember him because he was so determined. And it's an easy name to remember."

Castiel suddenly cared nothing for a smoke. All he wanted in the world was this name. "What was it?"

"He had something that said his first name. I don't remember what. But he called himself Sam Cleveland. Because this is where he woke up."

"Thank you so much," he said quietly.

"That kid wanted family. Bad."

"I know he does," he murmured. After all, Castiel had wanted the same thing.

***

The top one percent of high school graduates. That couldn't be right.

"Okay, that's the top one percent?"

The woman nodded as she typed.

"Not the bottom one percent."

"No. The top."

Sam frowned. "But that's good."

Finally, she looked up. "I'd say so!"

"I don't understand." He took a breath. "And that's among test takers. Right?"

"It's normed for all high school graduates."

"I don't understand."

The woman stared at him while chewing her gum. Finally she responded, "I'm starting to find it hard to believe you got a perfect score too."

Sam flushed a deep red. He ducked his head and let his hair hide his face, as he was wont to do when he didn't know what to say.

"Look, all I know is it's designed to be a test that folks can pass if they could pass high school, but can only score really high on if they would score really high in high school. And you'd only get a perfect score if you could have been at the top of your class in high school. So yeah. Top one percent of all high school grads. People think it's an easy test to ace. It isn't. And I've only seen a perfect score once or twice the whole time I've been here."

He nodded awkwardly. "But we're sure it wasn't a mistake?"

She sighed heavily. "Kid, I have no reason to think a mistake's been made, and I've never had anyone complain about a good score before."

The flush darkened. "I...I'm sorry. I'm not complaining. I didn't mean to..."

She handed him his receipt and scores. "It's all right. Congratulations, Mr. Cleveland."

It was a dismissal, but Sam was so flustered it took him two tries to find his way out of the office. The results of the test had completely baffled him, so he had returned to the testing center to find out what they meant. The clerk had assumed he had returned for a receipt of the test session, and had been something between amused and annoyed to find herself explaining the test results to him. Twice.

When the warm air hit him, he moved quickly to his jeep. He sat with the air conditioning pouring on him.

"So I'm not stupid."

Andy looked up from his phone. "Told you."

"It's a perfect score. That's like being in the top one percent of all high school grads."

"That's what I told you. Why is it I could convince anyone else of pretty much anything I can fabricate, but I can't even convince you of the truth?"

"I'm not stupid."

"Of course you're not."

Tears were stinging his eyes. "I was so afraid to do anything like this, because I didn't want to find out I was stupid. I read a lot. But I haven't ever done anything academic because..."

"Because you might be stupid?"

Sam shrugged. "Yeah. Everything else that's happened...and even if I weren't before, what if the injury had...but I'm not. I'm actually..."

Andy shook his head. "Sam, say it."

"I'm smart," he breathed out. "I'm really kind of smart."

"Now say it without the kind of."

He laughed tearfully. "I'm really smart."

"There you go. Feel better?"

"Better than I've felt in almost five years."

Andy smiled. "Good. Then take me to Ava's place and go home to treat yourself to gay porn or something."

Sam turned to glower at him. "You're a jackass."

"I'm just screwing with you. We're going to celebrate! Let's go to the restaurant. I want one of Tessa's cocktails, and it's one of my favorite things to go on my day off and laugh at the guys who are working."

This time, Sam could not help smiling. "You're a bad person," he chuckled.

"And you're a freak, remember? Good team."

They were sitting at the bar, munching appetizers and bothering Tessa, when the man in the trench coat was seated in the booth in the back. The hostess was frowning at him. Sam wondered briefly if the guy was being rude, but soon he was lost in laughter over remarks Andy was making.

It was amazing how things were changing. He had friends. He had a GED and confirmation that he was intelligent. His life before his memories began...It couldn't have been good. He himself might not have been good. But this new life he had made was coming together. Sam realized for the first time that he was probably better off letting credits roll on that past life forever, and focusing on his new life now.

Not only didn't he have much hope of remembering...he was finally certain he didn't want to remember.


	8. Bar Sips and Stomach Flips

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The handshake.

Akron was an interesting area, but it was not exactly a metropolis. It had not been too difficult to find what the apartment manager called "the best restaurant on Mill Street." He had gotten a glimpse of the owner-chef, who had come out to speak with a few important customers, but Castiel did not bother speaking to him. He knew he had made the hostess uneasy when he had asked for a table with a clear view of the bar. She probably thought he wanted to stare at the bartender. But he was more interested in the tall man whose face had been etched into his mind by staring at photographs.

Castiel was certain. He always knew when the chase was over, when his target was in his sights. But he always triple-checked before alerting his clients.

His server's name was Ruby, and she was flirty and sarcastic, and he ordered a coffee and soup, and then ignored her completely. His heart was pounding as he opened his slim briefcase and looked over his notes.

Sam Winchester had just turned twenty-one. Sam Cleveland was registered as a twenty-three year old. But with the height and bulk the kid had put on, who could find much fault in that mistake?

The eyes were the same. The nose, chin, the ears-what he could see through the mess of hair.

The man was actually quite beautiful, especially when he laughed like that.

He frowned, eyes widening in shock, and he shook his head to clear it. Beautiful? What was he thinking?

Castiel had been just twenty-one himself when his injury had ended his work at the police department. He had been on his way toward becoming a full detective within the next few years, but suddenly, he was given a settlement and was told he was retired in his early twenties. It had been devastating. Now it was four years later, and he felt like a much older man than he actually was.

So thinking of this kid as attractive felt wrong. He would only be turning twenty-six in August, but it seemed as though his target were much younger. And anyway, this was a client's missing family. This was business. This was his target, not...

Watching Sam laugh with his friends made his stomach flip in a way it hadn't in years.

Castiel reached for his phone quickly. He was on the job, and apparently he needed to remind himself of that. There had never been a time when a case had rattled him as much as this one. That was probably all this was. Now that he had found the target, he was done, and he could find out if Ash had a new job lined up.

"Hey, boss!"

Castiel's teeth clenched. "Stop calling me that."

Ash laughed cheerfully. "Bust on the Cleveland kid? I thought this one was going too quick. 'Course that's probably because I know you ain't sleeping-"

"No, I..." Castiel frowned. "How do you know I'm not sleeping?"

"You never checked into your motel, didn't charge your card for another one. And that's the third night in a row I found activity on your cell and computer at all hours of the night."

He sighed. Ash was right. This job was finishing quickly because he had literally been working twenty-four hours a day for the past several days. That explained it, didn't it? Why he couldn't keep his focus? He was tired.

"You gotta catch a nap, dude. I don't need you burning out and falling asleep while you're driving."

"No...Ash, I've got eyes on the target."

There was a pause. "What, are you kidding? Damn! You sure?"

"Sure as I've ever been. He's alive and healthy, and...and happy."

Ash cleared his throat. "Oh."

"I have to confirm the ID before I call Dean."

"Of course," Ash said quietly. "Well, text me. I wasn't expecting anything today. This is good. We can move on to another job once you've gotten some rest."

Castiel stared at the young man across the restaurant. "Yeah. Good."

"Cas, man, do you need help?"

He stiffened. "Of course not. I'm just concentrating on the job. And as you pointed out, I'm weary. Just...wait for my text."

"Got it, boss."

Castiel rolled his eyes and hung up. Good. Good, Ash could get busy deciding about their next job. Good. This one would be over and he could move on to the next.

Good.

***

It was the third time Andy had begun humming Pomp and Circumstance. For the third time, Sam slugged him in the shoulder.

Andy cackled. "What?" he demanded. "Look, this is essentially your high school grad party. I'm allowed to be proud of you!"

Tessa shook her head with a small, subdued smile. "You boys are monopolizing me. I gotta get to my other customers."

She received an eyebrow wiggle from Andy. "I can share as long as you come back to me."

The amused, nearly sympathetic smirk on Tessa's lips said everything she wanted to convey, before she moved to the other end of the bar.

"That is one beautiful woman."

Sam shook his head. "She's out of your league, Andy. She's not even operating on the same plane."

"Right. But I can dream. And anyway, now that Ava's given in to my charms, I'm perfectly content."

Sam knew he was far more than content. He was blissful. But he nodded. "Yeah. Okay. I played wingman for you. My turn. Go fetch something strong and pretty."

Andy laughed into his drink. "I'm assuming you don't mean Tessa, because she's out of your league too."

"I'd go straight for Tessa."

This made Andy snort his cocktail, and he had to grab a pile of napkins to clear out his nose again.

Sam snickered at him. "You're a mess. I'm going to go say hey to Meg and check my schedule. Get me another beer on your tab. My grad party, remember?"

He received a thumbs up response.

Whenever Sam was especially nervous, he placed the old, wearing out bracelet in his pocket. It was there now. He had needed it when going to get his test results explained to him. It was comforting, somehow. The oddly calming feeling that everything would get better one day came over him every time he touched it. He touched it now, in a silent dialogue with it, telling it that it was right. Things were getting better. It felt as though he were recharging the thing's power by confirming this. He knew it was silly.

This was the most important thing from his past, he decided. His first name and his birthday. Last names didn't matter. Birth years didn't matter. This was what he was. Sam, May 2. Everything else could be built on after that.

He was not watching where he was going, so that he slammed into the man with the trench coat and the tired eyes. "Oh!" He felt an immediate flush of embarrassment. "I'm so sorry! I didn't see you!"

The man blinked up at him. "I imagine you don't notice most of the rest of us from up there."

Sam laughed awkwardly. "Oh. No, I...I was thinking too hard. That's what my friend says. I think too hard and don't pay attention." He realized he was staring at this man, and his blush darkened. "I, um..."

A smile came over the man's face now. It looked to Sam as if it had fallen into disuse and was forced, but it was handsome nonetheless. "Are you from around here? I need some directions back to my motel. I was going to ask the bartender, but since I've literally run into you..."

Sam scratched the back of his head uncomfortably. His social anxiety was just about done with this conversation. No matter how amazing this guy's eyes were. And they were. Amazing. But Sam was no Andy, and he was no Dean. He was no...

Dean.

Sam's stomach seized up. There he was again. He closed his eyes in frustration. Dean had not snuck up on him since that movie with Andy and the girls. But there he was. Out of nowhere, like a ghost.

And suddenly, Sam knew that no matter what happened in this life, he would never be able to put his past behind him if he never learned what it was he had lost. Until he knew who Dean was. The feeling in his stomach every time he thought of that name...He just knew it was a brother, and that he had once meant the world to Sam. The name Dean made him feel like something valuable and irreplaceable was missing. It broke his heart.

Why couldn't this Dean person just leave him alone? He obviously didn't care about Sam, not enough to notice he was missing when he had been hit by that car. So why couldn't Sam stop caring about him?

"You okay, friend?"

His eyes refocused. "I'm so sorry. I was..." His blush was just out of control at this point. He was being an idiot. Test scores or no test scores, he was an idiot.

"I was just trying to get to Cleveland. There's a hospital there I need to get to." A hand was extended to him. "I'm Cas Tippens, by the way."

"Sam," he murmured shyly. "Sam Cleveland."

The man smiled a real smile when their hands connected. He placed his left hand over their right ones warmly. "It's very good to meet you, Sam Cleveland."

Sam knew that there were no memories hiding in his brain which could have prepared him for that touch or those blue eyes. He drew in a breath and forced it out again. "Good to meet you too."

***


	9. Somewhere West of Columbus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean has to stop for the night.

Even his Baby seemed to know how important this was to him. She roared as though she had just come off the line. Dean smiled. "You miss him too, huh? We're going to get him, sweetheart. I promise," he called over the blaring AC/DC.

He glanced at his flip phone every few miles. There he was. His kid brother, his enormous, entirely too-grown up kid brother. Castiel's photo had left no doubt that this Cleveland kid in Akron was his Sam.

His Sam.

Nerves began to overwhelm his smile again.

His Sam?

Dean chewed on his lip. This was a grown man now. And so far as he knew, he wasn't anybody's kid brother. This Sam wasn't the Sam he remembered from so long ago. God, he was older now than Dean had been when they saw one another last, by two or three years.

What was he going to do when they met? What would he say? "Hi," Dean whispered aloud. "You don't know me, but I'm your brother. I don't look like much. I ain't much. But I thought..."

Thought what?

He scowled and snapped off the radio in frustration.

In all the years he had dreamed of finding Sam, his first line had always been, "Sam, I'm here to take you home."

But he couldn't say that now. In every possible scenario he had imagined, reuniting with Sam had never begun with an introduction. He had never had to explain, maybe even prove, to Sam who he was. He certainly never had to prove who Sam was! In his imagination, Sam was glad to see him, or angry and dismissive, or even scared, or relieved, or suspicious of his motivation. He was ready for that. He was not ready for this.

Castiel had found him hanging out at the restaurant where he apparently worked. Dean focused on this bit of information for a moment. Sam was probably a waiter. Or a manager. Maybe a bartender. He had always been so good at talking with people, so full of confidence and charm.

And he was probably working his way through school. Maybe not Stanford like he had planned, but there was a university there in Akron. Sam was twenty-one. He could be nearly finished a degree by now, depending on when he had gotten started.

His Baby was doing her best, but it was a twelve hour drive from Fort Leavenworth. He had tried to pretend he could make it after a ten hour shift, but he knew he would need to sleep before confronting Sam anyway. He made it to Columbus before he surrendered. He was tempted to sleep in the car, but he wanted to be rested and showered for when he met Sam. For the first time, it was occurring to him that Sam was not the only one who had grown up in the last few years, not the only one who had changed and seen trouble. Even if Sam did remember him, he looked different, sounded different. He was a man now, when Sam couldn't even remember when they had been boys.

Sam couldn't remember anything that made them brothers.

The thought made him flinch as he showered off the day. He was less than a two hour drive from a man who was more stranger than family. And he was coming to turn the guy's life upside down...for what?

"What the hell do I have to offer him?"

He scrubbed at his skin until he realized it was becoming painful. His frown deepened, and he moved to rinse off the soap. A deep scar on his leg high up on the thigh caught his attention. He let his finger drag across the old knife wound. Then he moved his fingertips up to the patch of marred skin just over the opposite hip. A graze that could have killed him. They had lost two buddies the day he took that one. Dean had never been more afraid in his life.

Until now.

That day in Bosnia, he had been fighting to stay alive, to keep his buddies alive, to keep the diplomats and journalists in their care alive. Tomorrow's mission was different. There was no clear objective, no one to give him orders, and it wasn't even apparent who it was he was trying to save. It had always been his job to look out for Sam. He had failed, but he had always assumed that one day he would return and slide back into that comfortable role. He had thought after his deployment he would be Sam's big brother as he had always been. And then, when he had learned Sam was missing, he had been determined to find him and be the big brother the kid deserved.

But this wasn't a kid.

He did not even dress before grabbing his phone and dialing. He stood, dripping onto the motel carpet, refusing to acknowledge that he was trembling while it rang.

"Yes, Dean."

His eyes closed tight. "I'm sorry, Cas. I know it's late."

"I'm awake."

"And you're still in town, right? Ash got the message to you that I'll pay for you to stay another two nights?"

"Yes. I told you I would see this through."

He nodded. "I think..." He drew in a deep breath and dropped naked to sit on the edge of the bed. "You said he seemed happy."

"He does," the man confirmed in a quiet tone.

"Would you...would you be able to find out if he's got a lot of debt or anything medical going on?"

There was a pause. "You want to know if he needs help."

"Yeah. Can you find that out?"

"Ash can do some digging to find out about debt. And I can see what I can find out about his overall health."

Dean nodded. "Good. Yeah. Do that. That's not, like, crossing some ethical line or something, is it?"

"As long as you understand it isn't legal. I understand why you want to know. I don't get the impression you're gathering information to do him harm. And if I worried too much about breach of privacy, I couldn't do what I do."

He sighed. "Then yes. Please tell me what you can."

"May I know your plan?"

Dean laughed as the tears began to fall. "Yeah. I'm going to check on him, see him for myself, make sure he's okay and...and then I'm going to leave him alone."

Castiel's voice remained quiet. "And you want me there?"

"Well, I'm probably going to get my heart broken tomorrow, so..."

"I'll come with you."

He breathed in relief. "Thank you, Cas. You're a good guy," he choked out.

"I'm already downtown. You're in a motel?"

"Yeah. I gotta sleep before I do this. I'll call you in the morning."

"I'll just wait here then."

Dean closed his phone and lay back on the bed. After just two minutes of sobbing, he was hard asleep.


	10. Jessica is Too Close to Jesse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ash makes a call.

Being in one's mid-to-late-twenties gives one a surreal feeling of constantly being both too old and too young for every situation. This lasts into one's thirties, but Castiel and Dean wouldn't know that yet.

So when Castiel was carded for a beer at the restaurant where Sam worked, he stared at the bartender in shock. "Excuse me?"

The woman sighed. "We card anyone who could be under thirty, buddy."

He shook his head. "No, it's-of course. I haven't...Not in a long time, but..." He was still muttering to himself while reaching into his wallet and fumbling for an ID.

Suddenly, there was a large man next to him, chuckling. "Hey, Tessa. You carding this guy?"

"It's my job, Sam."

"Of course it is," Castiel said quickly. "It's no problem. I should have expected it." He slid it to the bartender facedown.

She glanced quickly. "Okay, Mr. Seraphim. I'll get your drink right up."

Castiel winced.

Sam's hazel eyes were on him. "Sera...what?"

He cleared his throat. "Seraphim. It's...it means-"

"Angels. But why'd you tell me your name was Tippens earlier?"

Castiel could tell the kid was past a cozy buzz. "Tippens is the name of an old family friend. Haven't you ever wanted to be untraceable?"

"Are you kidding?" Sam burst into bitter laughter. "Why the hell would I want that?"

"So you've never wanted to be anonymous?" Castiel smiled. "So Sam Cleveland is your real name?"

As soon as he had said it, he was both glad for the confirmation that Sam had not been hiding on purpose, and very, very sorry he had brought it up. Sam looked like he had been slapped in the face.

He put his hands up. "I apologize. That's none of my-"

"It doesn't matter." Sam paused while Tessa set out Castiel's drink and slipped away. Then he smiled tightly. "You know what?" There was a slight slur to the man's words, and he sat on the stool beside Castiel a little too heavily. "I'll buy you your drinks tonight. I'm tired of being anonymous. It's been a long day in a long month, and I don't give a damn what your name is. You stared at me all night. Make a move or I will."

Castiel's eyes widened. At the same time as his breath caught and his brain clicked off, his phone pinged in his pocket.

Sam sighed and stood up again. "Go ahead and get that. I know that look. You're about to tell me thanks but you're not into guys." He lay a ten dollar bill on the bar and shrugged. "Have a drink on me anyway. Because if you think you aren't into guys, you need one worse than I do. You're gay, dude. Welcome to the family."

He stared at the man as he walked away from the bar to rejoin his friends, a shorter man and a young woman, at a small table. It took several long beats before he realized he was not breathing. He sucked in a gulp full of air and let it out slowly.

"He's right," the bartender said quietly. "You were staring at him all night."

"I...I didn't realize..."

She shook her head at him. "I don't think I've ever seen that kid work up the nerve to hit on a guy before. He's a cook here, did you know?"

"No, I-I didn't."

"Yeah. He's so quiet I don't think most folks even know he's gay. The waitresses still hit on him."

Castiel tossed back his beer bottle. After several free gulps, he sighed. "I didn't mean to...He didn't even give me the chance to respond."

She raised her eyes from where she was wiping down the bar. "You did give him the freaked out heterosexual look."

He scowled. "Why does everyone assume I'm straight?"

Finally, the woman began to laugh. "I know a lot of guys with the opposite problem."

Castiel shook his head. "Please take this ten as a tip, or buy the kid a drink with it." He smirked. "Or a cab home."

She nodded. "Have a good night."

He left a fifth of a beer behind as he hurried from the restaurant. Once he was in his car with doors locked, he checked his phone, and heaved a sigh. He let it ring while steadying his breathing.

"Cas?"

"Ash?"

"Hey, um...First things first. You still haven't checked into a motel."

"Stop stalking my cards."

"You pay me to stalk your cards."

This was true. "I'm just going to sleep in my car. What else?"

The heavy sigh told him Ash did not approve. But he continued. "So there's this. The file you sent me on Sam Winchester's stay at that lovely resort with locks on the outside?"

Castiel frowned. "What about it?"

"The first hospital stay. Burns and lacerations. That must have been just after he got out, right? He took off for Ohio straight out of that clinic, before finding a place to treat such bad injuries? Something ain't right, man. I did some digging and I just can't figure it. They're vague with the wording in the discharge. Like maybe I would be if I'd lost track of an underage patient in my care. Like if I'd beaten the shit out of a kid and tried to burn the gay out of him, then lost him."

Castiel nodded slowly. His stomach was churning. "So he ran. We suspected that."

"Cas, I think he ran and then he came back. I think...Now don't scold me, but I got into the clinic's network and skimmed through some of the other records. The kid was, ahem, discharged-aka they lost him-and then he went back the next day and checked himself back in."

"He did what?"

"Yeah. For about forty-five minutes."

Castiel pinched at the bridge of his nose. "So you're telling me Sam broke out of that hellhole, then dove right back into the pit to break somebody else out?"

"Some guy called Jess. Three staff members were fired over the whole thing."

"You pieced all this together?"

Ash huffed a laugh. "I just see the patterns, man. I got a weird vibe, so I dug into their records, the ones only the staff can see. Even that is kind of hard to figure. Somebody really doesn't want anyone finding out what they did to these kids."

"The name is Jess?"

"That's the weirdest thing about all this, dude. It's Jess in some records, but..."

"But what?"

Ash sighed. "The kid must be trans, you know? He...in some places, it's a guy called Jess, which I guess is his birth name? Then in other records...it's Tess."

***

Tessa sighed to herself. She was sorry to see Sam so self-conscious, when she knew how wonderful he truly was. She could have loved that man if circumstances had been different. It was a painful shame the way the world worked. As Jess, Sam probably could have been attracted to her. But she wasn't Jess. And Sam might have been able to love her anyway, but when the accident took his memories, Tessa had done the hardest thing she had ever done, and let him go. Sam didn't ever have to know. His memories had stayed buried, and Tessa was grateful.

She wished she could have buried her own.

Jess had emerged from that horrible place with invisible wounds that would heal, and she had become Tessa, as she was meant to be. She had a grandmother in Cleveland who loved her as she was, and Sam had gotten her there as he had promised to do. Sam himself had been in much worse shape. He had gone through intensive shock therapy, and then security guards had left their mark on him as he had fought their way out. But he had insisted on using the money he had been slipped by that older friend, in order to get her clothing, meals, and transportation to Ohio from the clinic in Kansas. He had taken the last of it and checked into the emergency room in Cleveland, where he finally got himself patched up. Her grandmother had tried to give him what little money she could, but Sam was resourceful. He could take care of himself. Once he saw that she was safe and settled, he had moved on.

The next time she had seen him, months later, he was a different man. There was the same sweet hero underneath, but that was buried deep under layers of self-doubt, fear and anxiety. He had come into the restaurant looking for a job, and showed absolutely no sign that he recognized her at all. She had been hurt and confused at first, but when he had confided in her after a few rounds that he had lost his memory, she realized that this was Sam's chance to begin again.

Sam had admitted that he didn't know why he had chosen that restaurant to apply for work. The name had struck him as familiar and friendly. Tessa liked to think it was because he had once known that she worked there. And when he told her the only way he had known his name and birthday was by the bracelet she had made for him in that horrible place, she had nearly burst into tears. But she had stayed strong. She knew Sam wanted to remember, but she also felt certain he was better off not knowing. Unlike Tessa, Sam didn't have any family out there. The only family he had was a father and a brother who had left him to rot in a reparative clinic. What good would knowing the truth do him?

Then something had changed, and Sam was acting strange. When she and Meg had been joking about Gilmore Girls, of all things, Sam had begun talking about Jess. It had shaken her badly, and she had let Meg go after him. What could she say? Even if Sam's memories came back now, she was never going to be able to face him after she had been lying to him all this time. Sam had been betrayed enough in his life. Tessa never wanted to be part of that. It had never been her intention to hurt him in any way.

It seemed, though, that whatever memories Sam had tapped into that night were gone now, and Tessa was glad. There was only pain to be found there.

The others did not know, but the day after it had happened, Tessa had put in her notice with the owner. Her last night was tonight. She was glad she had gotten to serve Sam his celebration drinks. It was how she wanted to remember him. Tessa did not like goodbyes. She wanted to move on with her life, and clinging to Sam was killing her. He had saved her, and he would always be her hero. But it was time for her to take responsibility for her own happiness. Sam had done his part, and she was grateful. Tomorrow morning, she was driving to Chicago, and she was not looking back.

She had seen Sam holding onto her bracelet tonight, and it made her happy to think he gained strength from it somehow. She had given him the two good things from his past, his name and his birthday. Everything else could begin anew. She wished him the best, and she would always treasure the memory of his smiles, even if he couldn't remember himself.

Tessa locked up the restaurant behind her. The owner would forward her last check. This phase of her life was done.

She stuffed Sam's ten dollar bill into her jeans pocket. She was not above taking another tiny bit of help from the man. Tessa was no angel, after all. She was a survivor.


	11. Morning After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam wakes up to a full apartment. Turns out, he has friends. Who knew?

Sam nearly stepped on Andy when he stumbled out of bed. He swore irritably. "Hey," he hissed, nudging the other man's shoulder with his bare foot. "What the crap are you doing on my floor-Oh, shit." He groaned when Andy grinned up at him and pulled a tangled blanket aside to reveal Ava lying on his chest. "Please tell me you two didn't have sex down there while I was passed out on my bed."

Andy chuckled. "Nah. We did that in your living room. But Meg wandered in out of the kitchen and fell onto the couch, and kind of growled, so we moved in here."

Sam didn't even remember when Meg had joined them. It must have been after her shift in the kitchen had ended. "Anybody else sleeping in my apartment?"

"Jake's passed out in the kitchen where Meg left him. Ruby is in your bathtub."

He stared. "Is she okay?"

"Yeah. She took a pillow with her."

Sam whimpered a little. "Andy, I've never had so many people in my apartment before. Ever."

"Then I won't tell you Lily and Charlie slept on your balcony. Or that some guy named Max is in the tub with Ruby." He closed his eyes again, happily snuggling his girlfriend.

"I guess I better go get some food," he sighed. He was still dressed. Ruby and the random guy didn't even stop snoring when he brushed his teeth. He used the tiny hall bathroom for everything else. Then he looked down at Meg on the couch, and Jake sprawled on the kitchen floor. He was shaking his head in disbelief until his gaze settled on Lily and Charlie through the window. The women were curled into one another, with blankets and couch pillows all around them, out underneath the dawn. Sam smiled wistfully as he watched them for a moment.

"Everybody's found something but me," he murmured.

"You had your chance," Meg spat back from under her own arm. "Shut up and go buy donuts and orange juice."

He looked down to find her holding out a twenty dollar bill, eyes still shut tight. He laughed. "Yes, ma'am. Lock up if you guys leave before I'm back."

"None of us can move without puking. Go."

Sam snickered and continued on his mission. He would walk to the grocery. The air was nice, and he probably could use the exercise to sweat out last night's toxins.

But he had gotten only as far as the sidewalk before he realized someone was watching him. His eyes narrowed until he saw his observer, then widened in surprise.

"Cas?"

The man had obviously been dozing in his car, but now he sat straight up, frazzled. Out his open window, he gaped at Sam.

"Dude?" Sam approached the driver's side and smirked at him, feeling uncharacteristically bold. "What? Change your mind? Sorry, that was a one time, tequila courage offer."

The older man cleared his throat awkwardly. "I'm aware what this must look like." He struggled to open the car door and tumble out. "I know."

"Yeah? Because it kind of looks like you're following me," he teased. Sam knew this should probably upset him, but it was hard not to be amused by the guy's adorable hair and those alternately wide and squinty eyes, and the way he was trying to compose himself and completely failing.

"No, I...I don't expect you to believe this, but I'm...waiting for someone else."

"Ah," Sam said in a way that indicated he did not believe it at all. "Sure. I don't remember a lot about last night, Cas, but I remember you staring at me all evening, lying to me about your name and probably about why you're in town, and acting like you were at your first dance when I propositioned you."

A fierce flush was spreading across the man's face. Sam enjoyed it. He was being far more bold than he normally could have imagined. Perhaps he still had tequila in his system, or maybe he just felt like he had the upper hand-or at least the moral high ground. This guy was stalking him, after all.

"So? Wanna tell me why you're camped outside my apartment building, where you've apparently been all night? Or should I just take it as a compliment?"

Castiel winced. "I was not...Whether you believe me or not, I was waiting for a friend. He is having a very upsetting day, and I am trying to offer some support."

Sam's expression softened then. "I remember now. You said you were trying to get to a hospital in Cleveland. Your buddy going to be okay?"

"I don't know," he murmured.

He nodded. "Okay. I'm sorry. I'm just messing with you. You have to admit, it was a weird coincidence to find you here." He laughed, his natural shyness returning. "Can't blame a guy for pretending you're here in the morning because you regretted turning him down the night before."

"If I remember," Castiel said quietly, "you didn't give me the chance to turn you down."

"But you would have."

"Yes," he whispered in an odd tone.

Sam smiled at him sadly. "Okay. Well, I've got friends at my apartment who are going to wake up hungry. Hope your buddy makes it okay."

Castiel watched him. "Yes," he said. "So do I."

Sam sighed as he continued his walk. It was too bad. Castiel was hot and adorable all at the same time, and even if he really was in town just to help a friend, Sam had felt certain he had been watching him.

There was a bright side to the rejection: he had tried. Sam had hit on an interesting man, twice. In the light of day, without the liquid courage to aid him, he had still flirted with a hot guy. He was kind of proud of himself. Normally, his social anxiety and self-doubt prevented him from even making eye contact with an attractive man...and most other people too, for that matter.

It seemed silly, but he knew something had changed inside his head when he had gotten his test scores. What was even stranger was that no one but Sam had been shocked by the news. The people he worked with, Ava's roommates, everyone seemed to already have figured out that Sam was smart. It was both encouraging and baffling to a man who had worried he might have been an idiot in another life.

It was also slowly occurring to him that he had friends in addition to coworkers. When that had happened, he couldn't have said. Sam didn't know much about relationships, but he felt certain that once you had slept in a guy's bathtub, things had moved beyond just coworkers. He was both bewildered and oddly pleased to have woken up this morning with an apartment full of hungover friends.

These new developments somehow gave him more confidence. Not that he would probably ever be able to flirt with a guy like Castiel again, but maybe he could smile at one. Andy pretended that Sam was lonely because he was always seen in public with Andy himself, but Sam suspected it had more to do with not being attractive to potential lovers. It did not help that he could not even meet the gaze of anyone he did not know. Well, he was going to work on that. Sam wasn't stupid. And he was at least good enough company for a bunch of young restaurant workers to want to hang out with him. He had flirted with a stunning guy-twice!-and he wasn't stupid.

Sam knew he had already covered that one. But it was worth repeating to himself. He wasn't stupid.

He could handle smiling at a cute guy once in a while.

"Yeah?" the grouchy, anxious part of him muttered aloud. "Then what? It's going to be a blast when you try to get to know one another. No, I don't have any family. No, I don't have a past either. I've got my GED and six bucks to my name. Still think I'm a catch?" Sam sighed. He had reached his destination, and needed to stop talking to himself before he entered the grocery. His height got him enough unwanted attention. He didn't need strangers knowing he was crazy on top of that.

Besides, that voice was the one that was always being negative anyway. It was the voice that never shut up about what Sam tried his hardest to forget.

Maybe he wasn't stupid, but he was not worth loving. No one had ever loved him before, and no one ever would. He should be grateful to have friends, if that was what they were. To hope for more than that was ignoring all the evidence. If ever someone could have loved him, wouldn't someone have been there years ago? No, he was lucky to have friends at all, the voice scolded from inside him. Being greedy for more, for love and family, that was stupid.

And Sam wasn't stupid.


	12. Breathe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean gets what he needs.

Dean had said he wasn't going to upend Sam's life, and he meant it. But he had to see him. Just see him. That was all he needed. Just to see him walk and talk, and smile, that was all Dean needed. It was selfish to disrupt Sam's whole world if the kid didn't need him. A reunion would just be for Dean, if he had nothing to offer, nothing Sam wanted or needed in this new life. He had spent the final two hours of his trip trying to figure out a way to give Sam money without him finding out who it was from. Every idea was worse than the one before, and finally, he gave up. If Sam didn't need the money, that was just another way of Dean pushing himself onto a man who had no use for him. Ash had dug into Sam's accounts as much as he could, and it turned out that Sam had no debt to speak of. Ash reported that the kid was pretty conservative with his money, so even though he didn't make much, he didn't spend much either. And Castiel could find no evidence that Sam had lasting medical issues.

There was officially nothing he could do for Sam that Sam couldn't do for himself. Contacting his brother was officially a selfish dick move.

But he had to see him for himself.

He had poked and prodded all the numbers and facts, and now he needed to see the boy who had grown into a man without him. He wouldn't try to make him remember. That was cruel, considering what their father had put them through. He had made a call to an old military buddy of his, a scrawny, quirky guy called Garth, who had come home to work for Topeka's police force, and he had promised a brutal investigation of the reparative clinic Sam had been sent to. It wouldn't be as satisfying as bursting in and breaking the necks of anyone who might have touched his brother, with his bare hands, but it would have to do. As for John himself...

Dean closed his eyes as if he could block out the memory of that confrontation.

If he couldn't bear to remember, how could he ask Sam to?

No. He would simply check, see for himself that his brother...that this stranger was fine. Then he would pay Castiel the rest of what he owed him, more if he'd take it, and turn right around and drive home. The kid he practically raised. The one who had been afraid of clowns, so Dean had shown him the Batman cartoons of The Joker getting thrown into the Asylum, and then had caught the little guy telling a friend that his big brother Dean was better than Batman at scaring away monsters. The one who had eaten so many different varieties of Dean's macaroni and cheese that he was probably mostly made out of the stuff, but never once complained. The one who had craved their father's attention but had basked in Dean's. Knowing that Sam was safe would be enough. It was all Dean had ever wanted.

But there he was.

Dean's heart was pounding, and he was suddenly choking on his own breath. His chest was seizing. After all the thousands of times he had imagined seeing his brother again, he had never realized how many pieces a human heart could actually shatter into.

Castiel was watching sadly from a distance, leaning on his own car while Dean perched on his.

He could see Sam's gaze float right through him, and it felt like he might throw up. But then the hazel eyes in that too grownup, too handsome face shifted back to see the car. Sam frowned at it as he continued to walk past toward his apartment building, arms laden with grocery bags.

By the time Sam had entered his building, Dean was lightheaded, but still could not take in a full breath.

Castiel hurried across the lot toward him, just as he doubled over in a sob. "Dean! Dean, are you all right?"

He gasped in air, but his lungs were punctured with shrapnel from his burst heart, and he felt Castiel guide him back to put his weight on the Impala, but he could not breathe _could not breathe could not breathe God help him he could not breathe..._

"Dean!" Castiel was shaking him gently now.

The strong hands on his arms brought him back to reality. It was a reality in which he and Sam were not brothers, and he didn't want to live in it, but it was reality nonetheless.

"Dean, why not talk to him?" Castiel was saying. "You say your father hurt him, but what about you? This has hurt you too! You deserve to have your brother back, don't you? You said you don't think he needs you in his life, but what about you? Dean, what about you?"

He needed Sam. God help him, he needed Sam. But...

"Dean?"

"It isn't about what I need," he rasped, forcing himself to stand under his own muscle, willing his tears to cease. "It's never supposed to be about that. I gotta look out for him. That's my _job_."

"And what do you think his job is?"

Dean stared at the building door which had cut him off from his whole family, then blinked as the words settled into his mind. "What?"

Castiel sighed. "Has it never occurred to you that Sam might want you to be his brother again...just because? That maybe he doesn't even know he's missing someone? That maybe he doesn't need you, but he might want you?"

Too much. This was all just too much. This was a battlefield he had never trained for, and every moment he spent in it, he was closer to losing his war. "I can't," he whispered. "You saw him. He doesn't know me at all. It's..." He was certain he was going to vomit now. "It's better that way. I wasn't there to protect him back then. The least I can do is protect him now."

The other man was shaking his head at him. "From what? From you?"

Dean nodded, a bone deep weariness overtaking him. He leaned hard on the Impala. "He's free. So let him be free."

He had gotten what he needed. He could go back to the base, take that job and go back to Iraq, and know that Sam was safe. So why wouldn't his legs move to put him in the car?

He knew Castiel didn't understand. It didn't matter. "Dean, if you're sure..."

"I'm sure," he croaked. He forced a smile onto his face. "Thank you, Cas. For everything. You don't know how much it means to me to know he's safe."

This time, the blue eyes closed as Castiel heaved his sigh. "Safe," he said with more than an ounce of bitterness, which surprised Dean. "Safe, sure. He's safe. You think he's happy?"

There was no heart left to break. Dean gave him a cold, stubborn stare.

He nodded. "Fine. Ash will charge your account for the rest of our agreement. I'm done here. I find people. It's none of my business what my clients do with those I find."

Dean took it like a punch to the stomach, but he refused to respond, and after another moment of Castiel shaking his head at him, the other man returned to his car and disappeared from Dean's life.

He took in a sharp breath that hurt badly. In just two steps, he had his hand on the Impala's door handle, but he stopped when he heard a voice call to him.

"Hey!"

Dean lifted his head and his eyes locked with his brother's. His breath caught in his throat.

From the building entrance, Sam stared at him with a heavy concentration. "Nice car, buddy."


	13. Olive Green

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam wants another look at that car out front.

Upon his return to the apartment, Sam found Jake was now occupying the couch, and Meg and Andy were in the kitchen waiting for him. It seemed that they were the only ones awake. 

"Hey," he muttered. His head felt foggy, and he wasn't certain it was related to his mild hangover. "Breakfast."

Meg winked approval. "Good work."

Andy watched him. "You okay, man?"

"Yeah," he sighed. "Just...tired."

"Sam," Meg mumbled through a donut, "what's in that pretty melon of yours?"

He frowned at her. "Why is it always a melon? Or a grapefruit? Is there something about my head that reminds you of produce?"

"God, you're a nerd."

He shot a smirk at Andy. "Says the guy whose license plate is RU-OBI-1."

Meg snorted her donut, and it took several minutes for her to avert a powdery choking death. 

While Andy laughed at her and talked about karma, Sam began to frown to himself. Finally, he took a breath. "I'll be back in a minute. Don't let Meg die. I'm not ready for a promotion at work. I can't work that close to chef."

The woman flipped him off as he wandered out of the apartment again. He jogged down the stairs and stepped out of the building. 

Suddenly, he realized it was not fresh air he wanted. It was another look at that classic Impala he had glimpsed on the way in. He stared hard at it. When he noticed the driver was about to leave, he was immediately filled with the notion that he could not let that happen. 

"Hey!" he called. 

A pair of green eyes saturated in pain and panic lifted to meet his. 

"Nice car, buddy," he said. 

The man seemed to flinch. But his voice was steady. "Thanks. You...know something about cars?"

Sam smiled tightly. What was with him today? He had not spoken to a stranger voluntarily for months, and then there was Castiel and now this guy. "Yeah. I mean, no. Not really. It's a '67, isn't it? Almost forty years old." What was he even saying? Why was his head screaming at him not to let this man leave?

The eyes were shining, and Sam thought for a moment he saw tears, but then it was gone. "Yeah," the man murmured. He took his hand off the door handle, and Sam felt better about this somehow. "You, uh, you want to take a look?" The guy gave an awkward laugh. "Humor me. I'm a grease monkey. This car is the love of my life. Fun to show her off."

Sam felt an unfamiliar burst of pleasure fill his chest. He didn't even know why. Yeah, it was a great car. Why did he care? "I'd love that. Teach me a little."

The older man gave him a pleased laugh, as if it were the best possible thing Sam could have said to him. He proceeded to pop the hood. 

"I'm Sam, by the way. You live in the building?"

He received a small, sad smile. "No. I live at a military base in Kansas. Fort Leavenworth. I'm leaving the military and taking a job overseas with a private security company. I'm just here..." He took a deep breath. "I'm just here to say goodbye to my brother."

Sam nodded. "That's tough," he muttered as he stepped forward to look at the engine. 

"You have no idea." He sniffed once. "I'm Dean Winchester."

Sam blinked hard against a sudden flare of migraine. He hissed in his breath. 

The other man leapt forward. "You okay?"

An awkward laugh escaped him. "Mm. Yeah. Headache. Getting them a lot lately." Why was he so comfortable telling this man random things like that?

Dean nodded slowly. "Any...reason?"

Sam looked up from under the car hood in surprise. "Let me guess. You're the big brother."

The man's eyes took on a haunted look. "Yeah," he murmured. Then he took a deep breath and began to smile. "He's all grown up now, you know? He was this gangly, gawky thing just a few years back, finally starting to grow into his feet, like a puppy. Next thing I know, he's all grown up and doesn't need his big brother anymore."

The headache was piercing now. But he shook his head. "I don't believe it. Any guy lucky enough to have a good big brother, he's always going to need him."

Gratitude shone from his face. "Yeah? Not this guy. He's so smart. Not like me or our old man. He's something special." Dean sat on the sidewalk, and Sam found himself joining him. This seemed to make Dean very happy. "He's always been my hero, you know?"

"But you're the big brother."

Dean shrugged. "Don't matter. See, I'm the big brother, but he's the one who always..." He stopped to stare out over the lot, at something Sam couldn't see. "He always knew who he was."

"Must have been nice," Sam sighed. 

The man shook himself visibly. "I don't know," he said. "Maybe it would be nice to reinvent yourself. Start all over. Maybe there's something to be said for not being so sure who you are."

Sam huffed a laugh. "You'd think so," he responded. He looked at the Impala darkly. "The love of your life, huh?"

He nodded, watching Sam. "Aside from my kid brother, the only thing I love at all."

"And what if she got herself broken?"

"I'd fix her up. Good as new."

"And what if you did that, but she was never quite the same after?"

He could feel the man's eyes on him. "Then I'd love her for who she was now just as much as I ever did."

It was becoming difficult to swallow. "What if you never saw her again?"

"She's family. I'll love her no matter where I am, and where she is."

Family. That elusive, mysterious word. 

"She's a good car. A good friend. I haven't always been there for her. I was deployed overseas for a while, and...and my dad was supposed to take care of her. Came back to find out he did a shitty job of it. But she's family. And you never give up on family."

"Even your dad?"

He closed his eyes. "I can't think of that man as family anymore. Not the way he...He isn't interested in being family. He's interested in being right."

"John," Sam whispered softly. "His name is John."

Dean scrambled to his feet. "What?" He stared down at Sam now. 

Sam bit his lip and stood shakily. "I'm sorry. I'm thinking of something else."

"My dad's name is John."

He gave a breathless laugh. "Yeah. John's a common name, right?" Suddenly, the complete comfort and trust he felt with this man flew away, as he realized just how much he had let his guard down. "I better get going."

"Sam?" the man choked out. "Sammy?"

The piercing pain in his head was becoming unbearable. Sammy? No one called him that! No one but...

He was falling now, but strong arms were catching him. "I got you. It's okay, Sammy. I'm here. I'm here. I'm not going to leave you."

Sam stared at the Impala, at the way the morning was glinting off it, and suddenly he was overwhelmed by images, emotions. "Dean? Dean..."

"I got you. I'm here. I'm not going to leave you."

Olive green army men. 

Olive and khaki army man. 

Big brother, the olive and khaki army man who was leaving, leaving him and his Baby behind. 

Sam could remember sitting in that Impala, that same Impala right in front of him, sobbing like a child, missing his brother, the olive green army man, who had left him and this car to a man who hated what he saw in his son's eyes. 

He was babbling now, clutching at Dean's sleeves. "...how many times I sat in that car and wanted to just drive! You don't know how many times I dreamed of stealing it! But I knew you'd be back for it, and that meant you'd be back for me!" He could hear himself screaming, but he could make no sense of the words coming from his own mouth. 

"I got you. Of course I came back for you. Of course I did. Shh, Sammy. Shh."

Sam's hand refused to let go of Dean's sleeves, even as he tried to push him away. "I don't even know who you are!" he screamed hoarsely. 

But the arms were strong, and they held onto him stubbornly. The voice was calm, firm. Familiar. It was a voice that could scare away the monsters in Sam's head. "Sammy, that don't matter. Okay? Because I know who you are. You're my kid brother, the best human I ever knew. And I'm here. I'm not going to leave you. Not if you're hurting."

His eyes were wild, and the tears frightened him as much as the rest of this. "Then where the hell were you?" he hissed. "Where were you when I needed you?"

"I'm here now. I'll give you your explanations later. You deserve that. But, Sammy, right now, I gotta know you're okay. Do I need to get you to a doctor or something?"

He was panting when Dean finally, reluctantly released him. "I don't know," he admitted. 

"Okay. Look. I got a friend in the area. Give me a minute to text message him. He'll help us figure out what's next."

Sam nodded. A numbness was creeping over him. "Dean?"

The older man was tapping on his phone. "I'm here," he repeated. 

"It was Tess. Not Jess. It was Tessa."

Dean frowned at him. "I don't know that name, Sammy."

He sighed in exhaustion. "You would have liked her," he mumbled. 

At that point, the world went hazy around him, which seemed quite inconsiderate.


	14. While We Were Lost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While they were apart.

Tessa was watching him. He could feel it. "What?" he choked.

"I'm so sorry."

Sam huffed a laugh as well as he could. "What are you sorry for?"

"You had an extra session because you called me Tessa instead of Jess in front of them. You shouldn't do that. You're just so stubborn."

He stared up at the ceiling. He wanted to see the stars. "Sometimes it matters."

"It doesn't, though. It doesn't matter. Look, they can do anything they want to you, because your dad signed off on their experimental stuff. So just keep your head down, okay? God, you're stupid," she sobbed.

Sam shook his head. It made him dizzy. "No I'm not. I'm not. I'm actually really smart. I'm smarter than all these doctors."

"They aren't real doctors. They're mostly just people who get off on hurting gay guys like you."

Sam was quiet now. When he finally spoke again, it was in a whisper. "You think anybody knows what they do in here?"

"It's different with the adults. They're more careful. But us? So long as they have our parents' permission, they can do whatever."

"They honestly think they're helping us, some of them. I mean, you're right. Scott, he's just a sadist that likes playing with the shock machine, whatever you call it. But some of them...they really think they're helping us."

Tessa didn't answer.

He turned his head to look at her. The girl's eyes were low. Her hair had been buzzed off, and he knew how much she hated it. "Tess-"

"Just call me Jess, okay? The rest of the time we're here. Seriously. I'll know what you mean. Call me Jess and him. Will you do that? It's my choice. You keep saying it is my choice. So that's my choice."

He was too tired to fight. He had been kept awake for three nights now, and it was only a matter of time before they came to find him again for the fourth night of reprogramming. Dr. Benton was convinced that altering sleep cycles was the key to hitting the reset button on guys like Sam. His bracelet would give him a shock if his pulse evened out as though he were falling asleep. It was impressive what primitive thinking and modern technology could combine for.

When he looked up, Tessa had moved to his side and was reaching for his hand. "Here. I made this for you. To remind you of who you are. That nothing can keep you from yourself. They can put that one on your wrist, but this one is what you're really about."

It dropped into his palm, and he gazed at it. Tessa was crying, but quietly, softly. He smiled at her. "I promise to call you Jess after this. But...thank you, Tessa. I really, really needed this."

She nodded, and shrugged. "Hide it from them," she said unnecessarily. "If they can take something from you, they will use it to make you say and do stuff." Then she curled up on her cot, pulled the blanket over bare, unshaven legs, and cried with her back to him.

Sam ran his fingertips over the bracelet for the next hour, long after hearing Tessa's breathing even out. He felt the S in his name carved into the smooth wooden cube. Where Tessa found the material and tools to make it, he didn't know. But he was grateful for the little gift. Sam was who he was, born on May second, and nothing else mattered. They could wipe away everything else from him, but he was Sam, born on May second. They could strip away layer after layer, but those would always be true.

Clinics like this were not really supposed to exist anymore. So they were reinvented as mental health facilities. It was clean and the patients wore white, so everything seemed comfortable. But it had been a long time since the modern medical world had considered homosexuality a disease. Holdovers from the old ways of thinking were few and quiet, but they were out there, and fathers who were disgusted enough could find them. John had paid the bills and called it tuition. He had even used Sam's college fund to pay for it. For a year, John had tried to beat it out of him himself. Sam had been called every slur he had ever heard, because his father said he loved him too much to just give up on him.

Sam snorted bitterly up at the ceiling. Loved him too much. The last time he had spoken to his father, the man had been very intoxicated.

"When your brother calls, I'm going to tell him."

Sam had closed his eyes. "Dad, please don't-"

"Don't!" John had growled, "Don't tell Dean because you don't want him to know you're a fucked up deviant? Because you know it's wrong? I'm going to tell him. Tell him if I can't save you, I'm going to have to kill you."

Sam's mouth had gone dry in an instant. "What did you say?"

John let his gaze slide toward him. "You heard me. No son of mine...Not even sure you even are my son. I ever tell you that? You're Mary's. Sure of that. But I never saw a bit of me in you. Not like Dean."

He tried to swallow his sob. "Dad, please don't say that."

John didn't hit him that night. He just looked away and never looked back. The taxi had picked him up in the morning, and part of Sam had some hope that this mental health clinic might actually cure him. Might make him into the man his father wanted him to be, a man who could somehow look Dean in the eyes again one day. If they couldn't cure him, maybe they could at least help him put it away somewhere, on a shelf where it couldn't bother anyone anymore. Help him pretend.

Now he knew just how innocent that had been. Days were becoming weeks, and he was too tired to keep pretending, too tired to lie and say what they wanted to hear. He was just too tired. Dr. Benton said that was where the healing began, when he had been stripped raw down to his base desires. They could build him back up from there.

But Sam wasn't planning on being there that long. He was done with this. It was the end of the twentieth century, and his sexual identity was not a crime. It wasn't even anyone's business! If his father wanted to keep pretending, let him. Sam was done. And he was going to get out.

That was the easy part. Once he had made his decision to run, he was oddly comforted by it. He would get a message to Bobby. Surely Bobby would help him, put a few hundred dollars in a bank account for him so he could have a head start. He would find a way to pay him back. When he was safe somewhere, he would call his father to try one last time. In spite of everything, he loved the man. He could remember a time, long, long ago, when John had been sober most days, when he hadn't had that prominent self-loathing weighing on every interaction he had. That was the father he still loved, the one who had not let hate for himself bleed into hate for Sam. If there was a chance that father was still in there somewhere, he had to try one last time.

But that was the easy part. He would run. He would call John. And then he would start a new life. He could be brave. Dean would have been brave.

The hard part was going to be getting Tessa out of this place with him, before they brainwashed her into believing she was something she wasn't meant to be.

***

Dean waved to Benny as his buddy headed back up the road. He would catch back up with the big guy later for some beers. Today was just about family.

"And there's my family now," he mumbled happily. He ran his fingertips down the hood of his Baby. She needed some work, but he had expected that. John didn't climb under hoods or polish chrome anymore. It was okay. He was looking forward to making up for lost time with the old girl. He whispered promises to her, then let himself into the house.

It was silent inside. He groaned in frustration. He had been stupid to try to surprise them by not telling them when he was expected home. He had been so excited to make it a fun homecoming, but now it seemed like he was coming home to an empty house.

"Sammy?" he called. "Hey, bitch! I'm home! Dad? You here?"

His booted foot hit glass. Dean looked around the entrance in shock. Empty beer bottles were layered all over the floor, bottle caps tossed at random. His father was in a recliner in the living room, blinking in disorientation. There were pizza boxes and other delivery containers strewn about on the couches, and the smell was offensive.

Dean's heart dropped. "Dad?"

John's voice was hoarse. "Son? That you?"

"Yes, sir. What..." He looked all around them, his hands gesturing helplessly. Then he looked up into his father's face again, and realized with a cold surety that his father was no longer really there. He took a breath. "Where's Sam, Dad?" he asked cautiously.

"Got no son by that name." The man smiled weakly. He looked for a moment as though he were going to try to get up. But in the end, he stayed where he was. "But Dean! That's a kid a father can be proud of. I ever tell you about Dean?"

Vomit was rising in his throat. He felt like the room was actually getting smaller. "I'm Dean."

"Dean, you should have told me you were coming. Could have warned you. Could have cleaned up a bit." John laughed. "Didn't take the recycling out today."

Dean's eyes took in the piles of beer bottles everywhere. "I see that." He cleared his throat twice. "You, uh...Dad, do you know where Sammy is?"

"Gone. Run off. I was just trying to help him, Dean. I did it wrong, I know I did." John was fighting against tears now. "I get that. I was stupid. Drunk. And he was so fucking stubborn..."

The younger man's hands were clenching into fists. "Dad? What are you talking about?"

"Dean, I..."

"Yes, sir?"

"I ran him off. And he's never coming back."

Fierce green eyes flashed dangerously. "Why?" His voice was cold and hard. "Why isn't he coming back?"

"Because I told him not to."

Dean's heart was ripped from his chest that night. He had gotten to work putting the house in order, removing the insane amount of trash and spoiled food, and cleaning everything underneath. He had listened to his father's nonsensical ranting while he had scrubbed the kitchen and bathrooms, and cleared his father's bed of debris. It had taken all night long.

By four in the morning, Dean felt that the house was no longer in danger of being condemned. He had made his father shower and put on clean clothes and lie down in the newly unearthed bed, and then continued with the work. He learned that his father was having beer delivered, and drinking it warm because it would not fit it a refrigerator that couldn't have been reached anyway. The refrigerator finally came clean, but it took a great deal of effort to deodorize it. Dean vomited twice during the process, but he did not speak, except to order his father to bed, in a firm but respectful voice. He dug out the washer and dryer, and did load after load of laundry, and folded everything neatly when it was clean. He scrubbed every dish by hand, threw away the ones which could not be saved.

He found the cascading piles of mail and bills, and collected them all to look through them once the house was clean. By ten the next morning, he had figured out which bills his father had not paid, which were dangerously overdue and which could wait another few days. He looked at his father's accounts online and paid what he could, then used his own money to pay the rest. He took meticulous notes.

At noon, John was still asleep, but Dean thought he himself might never sleep again. He tried calling Sam's cellphone every hour. He had gotten the kid one as soon as they had become affordable. But it seemed to be turned off or abandoned now.

"Sammy," he sighed. "What happened here?"

When he got the story from Bobby two days later, he had listened with a cool, quiet rage building in him. When he hung up with his old mentor, he moved on to his next task, and had his father committed into a psychiatric facility, and left him there.

Dean stared at John one last time. "You know, I always wanted to be exactly like you. So I'm going to take what you've taught me, the good and the ugly, and I'm going to be a better man for it and I won't be you. I'll be who I always thought you were. I'm sorry about the fire that took Mom. But you've burned off the last of your family, and I need to go find mine. Blood don't make you family, Dad. You gotta earn that. I hope these people are better to you than you know those others were to my Sammy."

John had looked away and refused to speak.

Once Dean had stepped into the hall outside the room, he could hear what was left of his father burst into miserable sobs.

He kept walking.


	15. Emotionally Invested

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel has a tendency to become emotionally attached to those in his charge. Like Dean and Sam. He's really got to stop doing that. 
> 
> Dean needs emotional support. So it's all good.

Four men were facing off in the parking lot of an apartment building in Akron, Ohio. Dean was not even sure when this had happened. His emotions were all out of his control, and the only thing he knew in the world was that his Sammy was hurting, and he was going to help him. The other voices were just noise.

"You find out you got a brother, you call him up and go out for beers," the other guy ranted. "You don't hire some creep to stalk him!"

Sam was on the sidewalk with his head between his knees, as though he might be sick or pass out at any moment. "Andy, it's-"

"No, it isn't okay! You don't know these guys! For all you know, they found out about your injury and came to con you!"

Dean watched his little brother lift his head to smile weakly up at his buddy. "Con me? Out of what? That enormous paycheck chef gives me every two weeks?"

The kid didn't seem to have a good answer for that. He frowned. "Okay, but you still need to be careful! I mean, what do they want from you? And what's with the sneaking around?"

Then it was Castiel's calm, deep voice. "I needed to be sure that I had found the right man. There was no need to get his brother's hopes up if I hadn't."

Andy glared up at him. "So what happens next? Happily ever after? Taking him back to the farm? Sam's got a life, you know! And where the hell was this brother of his back when he was hurt?"

Dean was crouched down beside Sam. He sighed. "Well, kiddo, you picked your friends right. It's good to see that, even though you grew into a freaking giant, you got a buddy who wants to protect you." Suddenly, a thought occurred to him. "Wait. Is he...? Are the two of you...?" Dean stood awkwardly and turned to Andy. "Dude, I'm sorry. I didn't realize you were...Sam, is this guy...family?"

Sam blinked at him.

Andy frowned. "No. We aren't dating. But what if we were? What about it?"

At last, Sam laughed a little. "Andy!"

"Shut up, Sam. I want to know!" Andy crossed his arms over his chest and looked up at Dean with fearless defiance.

No. Dean smiled softly. Not fearless. He looked into the kid's eyes and saw the truth of that. Andy wasn't fearless; far from it. He looked like he expected Dean to kick his ass, in fact. But he was loyal. And if it meant keeping Sam from getting hurt, Andy was ready to be hurt instead. Dean liked this kid. He knew just how fiercely he would fight for Sam himself. Anyone who would do the same? Well, they might not be dating, but the kid could be family after all.

"Well?"

Castiel glanced at Dean too, and he realized all three men were awaiting his response.

He cleared his throat. "Do you mean...am I okay with my little brother sleeping with a dude? Because if that's what you need to know, you can relax. I'm not here to take my brother away. I'm not here to tell him what to do. And I'm not here to tell him there's something wrong with him. Because there isn't." He could feel his chest and throat tightening again. "There's nothing in the world wrong with my little brother," he said, and this time he was too tired to bite back the tears. He pointed down at the large man, the stranger, sitting on the sidewalk. "That kid...he's one of the best damn humans I ever knew, and I'm here to tell him that. That's all."

Andy watched him another moment, then nodded slowly. It seemed Dean had passed the tests. He sighed and looked down at his friend. "Sam, you sure you're okay?"

Sam shook his head. "I'm not okay. But I'll be fine. Go play host to the others. Please. I don't want them to...Just tell them something came up. They can stay as long as they want, eat whatever they can find. And find out who the hell Max is, will you?"

Andy laughed. "Yeah, okay. Call if you need me. Be careful, Sam."

When the three of them were alone, there was silence. Dean crouched next to his brother again. "Hey. He's right, okay? Let's do this in a way that doesn't come off like I'm trying to manipulate you. Let me buy you breakfast." He looked up. "Both of you. Please." His green eyes pleaded with Castiel.

The other man sighed heavily. "Dean, I don't usually-"

"Bill me, Cas," Dean snapped, more harshly than he meant to.

"Dean, may I speak to you in private for a moment, please?"

He winced. "Sammy? I'll be right back. Okay? Please, just don't...go anywhere."

Sam nodded, but did not meet his eyes.

He stood and walked a few yards with Castiel. "I'm sorry. I just don't know what to do."

The blue eyes closed briefly, then looked at Dean. "And neither do I. Look, Dean, you don't want to do this alone, and I understand that. But there's a good reason I don't get involved after I find someone. This job...it's becoming personal for me, and that's...I'm getting too close to..."

Dean jabbed a finger at his chest. "You made me tell you everything. Everything. Every detail because you thought it might help. And I waited for your phone call, Cas, every night. Maybe I only knew you a month or whatever, but you know everything about me. This thing with Sam...you're part of it now. I spent every minute I was awake trying to think of some other thing to tell Cas, anything else Cas might need to know, and I hung on every word of every email you sent. And you know what? Those daily update emails, Cas? They got to where I didn't think it was just a job to you anymore either. Like finding my kid brother meant something to you too, something more than money. So don't tell me you're too close. You're exactly as close as I need you to be, and I need help with this. I should never have needed help talking to my brother. My dad did that to us. He took that from us. I'm going to get it back, but I need somebody to help me till we get there. I'll pay whatever you need me to. He ain't found yet, you get me? He..." Dean drew in a shuddered breath. "He ain't home yet. He thinks he should know me, and that's something. But he ain't home yet. So help me find the rest of him."

Castiel looked torn. He glanced back at the man behind them, and gave a sort of whimper. "Dean, you're right. I know you and your brother well by now. But you know nothing about me."

Green eyes flashed in annoyance then. "Yeah? Nothing? Like the fact that you got a thing for my brother?"

Castiel sucked in his breath sharply.

"Yeah. Or that you know exactly what it feels like to have your family dump you on the side of the road because you don't fit in to their definition of a good son?"

"Ash-"

"Ash nothing! Sammy's always been the smart one, Cas, but I'm not blind. Those emails you sent, every one was more determined than the last. This stopped being a job for you weeks ago. I'm going to pay you, but for fuck's sake. Stop pretending like you can't be a part of me getting my brother back just because your contract is up. You want to know my brother better. So do I. I just want somebody who cares what happens to us. Dammit, Cas, you're the only one that ever thought I might find him one day. The only one who didn't tell me to give up on him."

As the other man smiled shakily, Dean saw fear in those blue eyes. "Dean, I do want to know your brother better. I've come to care very much what happens to you both. You should know I never meant to...to...I was just doing my job. I didn't realize I was becoming emotionally involved."

He huffed in relief. "You're going to help me?"

"I told you I would see this through. The job is over, but the work isn't done. Breakfast is a good start. If...if you think it would be helpful, I will drive Sam, follow your car. He may have questions about how I found him. If he becomes angry in response to my answers, it would be better if he associated it with me than with you."

"Thank you," Dean breathed. "Come on. Let's go get my brother back."

He knew it was strange. This whole situation was strange. But Dean had been ready, for years, to find Sam, to face his anger or hurt or even hate. But this...He was afraid. A voice was screaming at him from inside his mind that if he messed this up, this first morning reunion, he would get no more chances. He would be done. His family would consist of four wheels and the open road. Benny and Cole and Garth, he would always love them. But Sam. Sam was his whole world. If he screwed up today...if he said or did the wrong thing...that would be the end of the world, and Sam would be lost to him forever.

Castiel's quiet strength, his silent nod, gave him the confidence to smile back at his brother. "Let's do this."


	16. What He Always Wanted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Breakfast, Castiel's POV

Sam wasted no time once they were in the car. "So? How did you find me?"

Castiel licked his lips. "Mainly, through the medical facilities you have been in over the years."

"So if it was that easy, how come Dean didn't do it years ago?"

He took a breath. "Because he didn't know how. Not like I do." He glanced at him briefly, then back to the road. "How much do you remember, Sam?"

"Almost nothing. But I remember Dean's voice. When he talks...I know him. I don't know anything about him. But I know him."

Castiel stared ahead at the Impala leading them. "And that feeling...it's a good one? A positive one?"

Sam chewed on his lip.

He could see it out of the corner of his eye, and the tiny movement was coinciding with an increase in his heart rate. He forced his concentration onto his driving.

"Yeah. I mean...Probably means something right? That I don't think I hate the guy?" He laughed awkwardly. "I want to say this is the weirdest thing that ever happened to me, but I guess I don't know that."

Castiel nodded, the ghost of a sad smile haunting his face. "Sam, while spending the last few weeks, over a month, looking for you, I have come to know your brother a little. Dean is a good man. I'm certain of that. His intentions in finding you are good ones."

"So why am I riding with you?"

"I don't think you were in shape to drive, do you?"

"I mean why you?"

"It was my suggestion. In case you had questions you wanted answered before conversing with your brother. I am a...neutral third party, I suppose."

Suddenly, he could feel Sam's smile. He could not see it, since he was trying hard to stare only at the road. But he could feel the smile. It was doing nothing to slow his heart's race.

He cleared his throat uncomfortably.

"Yeah? Completely neutral? Not the least bit invested?"

Castiel flicked his eyes at the younger man. He was still pale to the point of being gray, but there was a smirk on his face, and a bit of pink over his cheeks that was more than a little attractive. "I-I think it's natural to want to see the job to its completion," he croaked.

"Okay. And you know more about me than I do."

He frowned now. "I suppose that's true. I know more facts about your past than it seems you remember."

"So? Am I an asshole?"

It surprised a laugh out of Castiel. "No. No, that has not been my impression."

Sam nodded quietly. "Good to know."

Against the advice of his brain, Castiel continued. "In fact...in fact, from what I can tell, you're a good man. I-That is, you were a good kid. Spoke with some of your old teachers and classmates, some nurses...You seem like you were a good kid."

This time, when he glanced, the sparkle of tears had replaced the smirk in Sam's lovely eyes. He stared at Castiel, and the older man wished he could stare back. "Thank you," he whispered. "For saying that, thank you. It...it's important to...Just thank you."

He let his lips curl into a very small smile. "It's the truth," he assured him. As they pulled into a restaurant parking lot after the Impala, Castiel spoke again, in a low voice. "Sam, it is none of my business. At all. But you should know that your brother spent a great deal of resources in order to find you. He just wanted to offer you help, and he is willing to leave you alone if you prefer. It will break his heart, I think. But his only motivation was to offer you help. He wanted to see for himself that you are all right. He will walk away and never bother you if that's what you want. But I suspect you could always change your mind, even years from now, and he would be there for you with no questions asked. He is devoted to you. I hope you will...give him a chance."

Sam paused before opening his door. "Thank you, Cas. I get the feeling you're a good man too, you know."

It was nearly a full minute before Castiel could make his muscles obey him to follow after this young man. He gulped in air, as he stared after Sam, who approached Dean at the entrance with a healthy amount of caution. Even the way he walked...

Castiel shook himself in irritation. "Finish the job, Cas. This isn’t about you. Just get this done and move on."

He stepped toward the restaurant and saw Sam give that perfect, beautiful, shy smile to Dean, and his whole body shivered with pleasure at the vision. Castiel sighed wretchedly. He could pretend, but the facts were simple. Sam Cleveland was a breathtaking man, and Sam Winchester had a good heart. Those two qualities together in the same person was going to be rough in combination with a loneliness that hollowed out Castiel's core. He needed to remove himself from this. This was too much. He did not know this man. He did not know Dean. He had done his job, owed these brothers nothing.

But he could not get past the feeling scratching mercilessly at the back of his mind. This was what he had always been searching for. Dean was the family he had always wanted. Sam was the good man he had always craved.

He wished Ash was there.

When he sat in the chair between Sam and Dean at the large square table, he looked from one to the other, wondering about similarities. Certainly Sam's eyes had some green to them, but they were hazel, and nothing like Dean's. They were both tall, strong and athletic, but Sam had two or three inches on Dean, and Dean was built like a stone mason. Dean's posture and mannerisms were clearly influenced by his time in the military, while Sam ducked his eyes beneath his long hair and rounded his shoulders as if he wanted to appear smaller than he actually was.

But when they tried pitifully to smile at one another after mumbling through a breakfast order with the waitress, Castiel finally saw the resemblance.

He rolled his eyes. This was ridiculous. Ash and Jo would have laughed themselves stupid if they knew he was trying to mediate a social interaction. "Dean, perhaps you would like to start by telling Sam where you have been the last several years."

Dean nodded awkwardly. "Yeah, um, Sammy, I'm in the military. Like I said. I live...I live on base at Fort Leavenworth. Kansas."

"Kansas," Sam repeated softly. He took a deep breath, and glanced at Castiel, as if for support, then back at his brother. "Look, I'm sorry I freaked out earlier. You gotta understand, I don't know anything. About you, about me...I feel like I'm supposed to know you. I think we were friends once..."

Castiel watched anguish saturate the green eyes. Dean smiled weakly. "Yeah," he muttered. "Yeah. Best friends. I'm glad you...I'm glad..." Emotion choked his words down, but Castiel suspected Dean didn't know what to say anyway.

Sam was looking at something over Dean's shoulder, something no one else would be able to see. "You know," he murmured, "lately, I've been remembering things. Just weird little flashes. It's like I black out for a second, like I'm not really here for just a second. And then when I come back, somebody always says I mentioned Dean. I don't remember what I said to you outside my building a few minutes ago. I-I know I said something, because you went from not saying who you were to…And then Andy was there, and Cas, and I don't even remember..."

Dean, too, looked at Castiel for encouragement before speaking. Castiel wondered if perhaps that was his only real role here. "It's all right, Sammy. You were upset with me, and your eyes were kind of far away for a minute, but you came back to us."

There was a pause, a brief silence. Then, all of the sudden, Sam smiled brightly. It was giving Castiel emotional whiplash. "Dean. _Raiders_?”

The older man gave him a confused smile. " _Raiders_? The movie?"

Sam nodded, and chewed into his lower lip, searching Dean’s eyes with hope.

Castiel watched that lip sadly. He wanted to save it or maybe to abuse it himself. Instead, he forced his gaze toward the table instead. He took his own lip between his teeth, just to feel the sensation.

" _Raiders of the Lost Ark_. It was one of our favorites as kids. What about it?"

For the first time, Sam's smile seemed happy. "I remembered that," he breathed in quiet pride.

Something about that expression made Castiel draw in a breath and hold it. Cautious, shy Sam Cleveland was breathtaking. Pleased, smiling Sam Winchester was celestial.

Dean grinned, and began to show signs of relaxing. "Yeah? God, we must have watched that a thousand times. Always either _Indiana Jones_ or _Thundercats_."

"And _Batman_?”

Green eyes were shining with pleasure. "Yeah, Sammy," he said with obvious fondness. "Yeah, _Batman_ , _Superman_. We read the comics, watched the movies and cartoons...You even broke your arm-"

"Jumping off the roof of that barn," Sam interjected. "Because I was Batman..."

"Everybody knows Batman can't fly," Dean chuckled softly.

"I didn't. I didn't know idiot kids couldn't fly either."

The adoration in Dean's eyes was almost painful to see. "You were so many things, Sammy, but never an idiot. God, you were so smart. And such a smartass!" He added this with a laugh. "You were the biggest little smartass. Could have throttled you half the time, except you were so damn cute. You were...Sammy, I wish you knew how much I've missed you. Don't know how to say it so you'll understand. I've missed you, man." He sucked in his breath and leaned back in his chair. "I'm sorry," he sighed. "I don't mean to freak you out. I'm nobody to you. But, Sammy...Sammy, you've always been everything to me. That's why I had to hire this guy to find you."

Castiel looked from one brother to the other several times.

Sam smiled, but shook his head. "I'm glad he did. You aren't nothing to me, Dean, you're definitely something. Just not...I just don't know what you are."

His wince was almost unnoticeable. "Yeah. That's okay. I'm just here to see if I can help you. Ain't here to do anything else, to try to be anything else to you." He swallowed with difficulty. "You got a life here. I get that. But..."

Castiel watched Dean begin to unravel, and it hurt his heart just as much as seeing Sam's fear.

The gruff voice got even lower. "Sammy, please. I need to help you. Even if you don't need it. Ask me for something. Money, anything. I need some way I can help you."

Suddenly, Sam’s gaze narrowed. He looked darkly into those green eyes. "Why? Because you feel guilty?" he quietly accused.

A shaking hand trembled down Dean's face. “Of course I feel guilty," he corrected in a voice so deep it rivaled Castiel’s, "but apart from that, I really, really need to help you. God, Sammy, I’m your big brother. It’s my job. Please. Tell me how I can help you. I don't have a lot of money, but anything I got..."

The younger man watched panic building in Dean's eyes, desperation mounting. "I don't need money," he said finally, with an icy tone.

It looked as though Dean had been slapped. Castiel reached out instinctively to grip Dean's arm. It stabilized the man, who seemed to be spiraling dangerously. Dean took several shallow breaths. “I…I know you don’t, Sammy. Sam. I’m sorry. You go by Sam.” He huffed a pitiful laugh, and the desperation only grew on his face. “You always wanted to go by Sam. Don’t know why I never think of you as Sam. That kid…” He wet his lips, and continued to try to smile. “That kid I raised, that Sammy, he’s gone now, and…and I’m so damn proud of you, of everything you’ve been able to do for yourself. It’s fucking selfish to want…to want you to need me for anything.”

Castiel watched Dean stumble to his feet, and cringed. “Dean-"

“No, Cas, no, it’s…This is what I want. Okay?” Green eyes sparkled through painful tears. “It’s what I always wanted. I raised this kid to…” He sucked in a sob, even as he glowered in disgust at his own emotion. He cleared his throat and began again, though he could not look at his brother. Instead, trembling hands rifled through his wallet. “I raised this kid to never need nobody. I did my job in that way, even if I fucked up everything else. I’m so damn proud of what he is. It’s what I wanted, and now I can go, knowing he’s just fine without…without me. Without us. That’s the way it should be. And you can answer any of his questions as well as I can.” He lay three twenty dollar bills on the table, and hurried toward the exit, but not before Castiel saw the tears begin streaming down his cheeks.

The waitress stared after him as she held the tray above the table. “Everything all right?”

Castiel sighed.


	17. Baby and Bobby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And their idgit.

He was shaking head to foot, like he hadn't since Bosnia. He sat in the Impala and stared hard at the rain beginning to bead on the windshield. He had been so caught up in seeing Sam's smile that he had not noticed the storm clouds approaching until they were already washing his Baby.

His Baby.

He turned on the wipers and headed for the motel again. He had rushed out without grabbing his bags when Castiel had called. He had left a sidearm and a uniform. Otherwise, he probably would have simply abandoned his things. He had to go back for his issue.

But all he wanted was to run with his Baby.

His Baby.

"We're it now," he whispered to the car. "All that's left. The whole Winchester family. You and me."

Sam's words slashed through his mind without mercy, and he gave in to wracking sobs.

"He wanted you to take him away, Baby," he rasped out in a voice he did not recognize. "Why didn't you get him out? Why didn't you protect him?" And now he was screaming through the sobs. "He needed you and you just let him suffer! You could have gotten him out! You should have been there for him!"

The car purred as it always did, but Dean imagined that she was roaring angrily in protest.

He slapped at the tears with the back of his hand and then wiped at them with his thumb. "No excuse. Sammy needed us, and we let him down. We should have known. We should have been here. If I had known, I would have told him to go, to take you. To let you take him. And instead I come home and find you rusting in front of that man's house, when my Sammy..."

He could not continue now. But it didn't matter. It was stupid to pretend he was angry with the Impala when he was so full of hatred for himself. The car was just an extension of him, another part of him that had failed to get Sammy to safety.

The first conversation on the phone with his father had made no sense. Sam had run off. He had blamed the poor connection overseas, the fact that his father had clearly been entirely too drunk to even be speaking. So even though he had tried to make sense of it, it had done nothing to prepare him for the scene at home when he had arrived seven weeks later.

He had spent the next five years in an emotional purgatory. He could neither go back to prevent these things from occurring, nor move past them. Benny had once told him quietly that he was grateful that Dean had not been there for Sam, that he instead had been deployed with him, and saved his life. Dean's heart had ripped in half at that moment. He didn't tell Benny that if it came down to a choice, if he could have been in Kansas while Benny was under fire, he would have sacrificed his buddy for his brother. But he suspected Benny knew.

Now there was nothing left. His brother was done with him, and why shouldn't he be? He was a grown man. Dean was proud of him, just as he had said. Sam had grown up hard, but he had grown up strong, and that was clear at a glance. In spite of the headaches and disorientation brought on by the memories, Sam seemed far better adjusted than Dean had ever been himself.

He pulled into the hotel lot, and parked, but could not move from the car. There was still an hour till checkout. He still had three days of his week pass left.

"What am I supposed to do?" he breathed through the tears and rain. There was no one here to give him his orders. No father to bark at him, no CO to direct his next move. "What am I supposed to do?" he screamed now, slamming his hand against the dash.

Pain shot up to his elbow, and it focused him. He scrambled for his phone and dialed from memory, letting his burning eyes ease closed.

"Singer's," a gruff voice responded.

"Bobby, I've got problems."

There was a deep breath on the other end. Then the only calm voice from his childhood, once his mother had passed, responded. "It's okay, boy. That's why I'm here. Is everyone all right?"

"No, it's-it's-it's Sam. Bobby, I found Sam."

There was only an instant of pause, but Dean could hear the relief mixing with fear. "Is he all right?"

"Yeah, I...I just don't know..."

"Okay. So now we figure out what to do next."

The sobs were choking him. "Bobby, I don't think he..."

"I said what do we do next, Dean."

Dean leaned his head onto his shaking hand for a moment, but he nodded. "Right," he breathed. The panic was subsiding. "Okay. Right."

"Now tell me what you've got."

So he spilled over with the story, how he had hired Castiel to find his brother, where he had located him at last.

"Before you left breakfast, did you or Cas tell him what your daddy did?"

"I don't...we said a lot of things, I guess. But no. Not...that."

"And he just said he don't need your money, and you ran off. I don't like the sound of that."

Dean cringed, screwing his eyes closed tight. "Bobby, you didn't hear him. You didn't see his eyes. It ain't Sammy no more, Bobby. And I ain't a brother to him. Not so he sees it."

"Then why don't you begin at the beginning?"

He groaned in exasperation. "That's it! That's the whole story, Bobby!"

"Not with me, boy! With that brother of yours. He don't remember being a kid? Fine! He don't remember your daddy? Good for him. Wish I didn't. But you. You're a better man than your daddy ever was."

An old reflex to defend his father sprang up, made him want to remind Bobby that his father was sick. But it was Bobby. So he said nothing.

"Dean, get that boy to listen. He don't need to need you. Don't you get it? You need him!"

The flinch was physically painful. "No, Bobby," he moaned. "No, that's not how it's supposed-"

"Don't you tell me what family is supposed to be, boy," Bobby said darkly. "Call this Cas, get back to your brother and make him listen!"

He lifted his eyes as a car pulled into the lot near his. "Shit. Shit, Bobby, I don't have to. He's here."

"Call me soon as you can. But not till you've said your piece. Tell him you love him and you need him, ya idgit."

Dean let the phone fall from his hands as Castiel and Sam emerged from the vehicle to stand in the rain. He took his keys from the ignition, and slowly climbed out of the Impala. Castiel made a gesture, and Sam stepped into a dry area. Castiel himself remained in the rain, as if he could not feel it. Dean looked at him with fear plain on his face.

"Dean, I found him for you. You have to tell him why."

A great sigh emitted from his lips, and he followed Sam to where he hunched against the brick wall of the hotel, only just sheltered by the overhang.

The eyes were on him, and Sam waited in silence.

"You know," he began sadly, "when we were little, and you couldn't been more than five, you just started asking questions. How come we didn't have a mom? Where'd Dad go when he'd take off for days at a time? I remember I begged you, 'Quit asking, Sammy. Man, you don't want to know.'"

Sam blinked at him.

Dean did not know if he was making sense. He simply kept talking. Bobby had said to begin at the beginning. "I just wanted you to be a kid... Just for a little while longer. I always tried to protect you... Keep you safe... Dad didn't even have to tell me. It was just always my responsibility, you know? It's like I had one job... I had one job...And I screwed it up." His voice betrayed him, and it took a moment to gather it back.

Sam waited, watching. He was silent.

"I blew it. And for that, I'm sorry." His hands were shaking badly as he reached up to push tears away. "I guess that's what I do. I let down the people I love. I let Dad down. And now I guess I'm just supposed to let you down, too. How can I? How am I supposed to live with that?" The tears were out of control now, and he stopped trying to stop them. "What am I supposed to do? Sammy. God. What am I supposed to do?" He took a sharp breath in through his teeth, and sobbed it out again. "If I can't help you, if you don't let me help you, I just...don't know what I'll do. I gotta take care of you. It's my job!"

The younger man nodded slowly, and shifted on his feet. "And...what do you think my job is?"

Dean closed his eyes. Then, slowly, the words sunk in, confusing him. "What?"

"What was the dynamic between us, Dean? You took care of me. What did I do for you? So we're clear. What did you get out of being my big brother?"

A shocked laugh burst out from him, but it was only fueled by amazement and not humor. Dean shook his head in bewilderment. "What did I...Sammy, you were my best friend! My only friend most of my life! You were my kick in the ass when I needed one and my reason for living one lousy day to the next! Sam, you're my goddamn hero! Always have been. You're why I'm here, and I'm...I'm lost without you. Dammit, Sam. I don't care if you don't need me. I need you. I need my brother. I can't do this alone."

"Yeah you can. You did."

He smiled sadly and stared down at the ground. "Maybe. But I don't want to. I want us to be a family again."

When he got up his courage to raise his eyes, Sam was smiling at him. His Sam. From too high above him, he was smiling down at Dean, with the same look of amused adoration he had always had.

"I've missed you, man." It was barely even a whisper.

Sam nodded again. "Then let's get to know one another. Because I don't remember much, but I feel like I've missed you too."

Dean let out the breath he had been holding. "I'd like that. I think...I'd really like that." He looked back to the man in the rain. "Hey!" he called out. "Cas!"

"Yes, Dean," the deep voice replied.

"I'm going to spend some time with my brother. But I don't want...Will you stay in town another night?"

Castiel looked from him to the younger man, and the blue eyes went soft. "Yes, Dean. If you'd like me to."

Dean gave a soft snort. "Yeah. Put it on my bill."

The man licked his lips thoughtfully. "No," he said quietly, and Dean had to strain to hear him in the rain. "No, I'll stay, but I think...I think I would like to end the professional portion of our relationship."

This made Sam smile, Dean noticed. And anyone who could make Sam smile like that was all right in Dean's book.


	18. The Search

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Correspondence from the seeker and his client.

The emails started out curt and scheduled. Castiel always updated his clients at roughly ten thirty at night. He had found that they were unlikely to call him if he did it that late. Most of them would not see it until morning, since many of them only had access to email at work, or were asleep. The email detailed his activities for the day related to their job, and left no need for a response unless the client had a question or Castiel needed new information. It was the same for Dean Winchester.

 ** _May 4, 2004_**  
_Dean,_  
_I have researched the schools Sam attended, and have created a list of potential interviews. Ash is working his way through military, criminal and cemetery records. This will take several days to be thorough._  
_Castiel._

 ** _May 7, 2004_**  
_Dean,_  
_I have several interviews lined up regarding your brother’s case. Ash has thus far found no matches in his searches of cemetery records, accident reports or criminal histories._  
_Castiel._

Gradually, the emails to Dean did something his communications with clients never did: they grew longer, more detailed and more frequent.

 ** _May 11, 2004_**  
_Dean,_  
_I have interviewed that teacher you suggested in our last exchange, and while I don’t think it has provided me with any concrete leads, it has given me a better view of your brother as a person. This teacher found him to be extremely creative and bright. Did you know your brother wrote short stories? He even still had one that he shared with me, and it was very engaging. Another teacher has indicated that Sam may have wanted to study law. Every teacher has described him as very intelligent and a fantastic student, but most have added that he was also a kind, considerate friend. This is similar to the reports from classmates…_

 ** _May 12, 2004_**  
_…which clinic your father sent him to. It is called Last Hope, and from what I can gather, it was a quite dreadful place, particularly for headstrong young men like your brother. I will be on the road to Last Hope as soon as possible. I hope to learn that Sam spent very little time there…_

Without realizing it, Castiel began expressing more than simple, detached concern for this boy he had never met. Suddenly, he was expressing opinions. He stopped rereading his emails before sending them, and he indulged in unprofessional commentary.

 ** _May 15, 2004_**  
_…cannot fathom why your father thought this was the way to help your brother. Sam was a capable, confident young man, by all accounts. A place like this is meant to break one’s spirit. Especially among the more “experimental” methods. Sleep deprivation was a favored tactic of a particular Dr. Benton, whose medical license seems to have been issued by mail order along with a copy of Clockwork Orange, a terrible film which Ash forced me to watch recently. Fortunately, Dr. Benton was among those purged from the clinic after Sam’s disappearance. Unfortunately, he was reinstated in the past year. Apparently his patients’ “recidivism” rate was impressively low, especially among his teenage victims. Incredible…_

And sometimes, he was exchanging emails with Dean, not to update him at all, but because he found he wanted to.

 ** _May 17, 2004_**  
_…I’ll ask Ash, but I don’t think we have ever been to a place like that in Texas. On the other hand, I get the feeling that you would greatly enjoy Harvelle’s Roadhouse. It has the “peanut shells under your feet” feel that you seem to enjoy. Should you find your way there one day, I will be sure to introduce you to Jo. Perhaps that would disincline her toward pretending to flirt with me for at least one night…_

 ** _May 21, 2004_**  
_…isn’t as lonely as you think. There’s Ash, and the Harvelles. And I really do not require much companionship. I’ve been on my own since I was a teenager, much like Sam, about ten years. I like bringing families together, but I really don’t need one myself. And sometimes I work with clients who make me glad I don’t have family. You and your brother, though, you are different. There seems to be no motivation beyond true concern and friendship which keeps you looking for him. I’m certain, from what I’ve learned about your brother, that your worries about his opinion of you are unfounded. I have no doubt that Sam knows you don’t share your father’s views. As I learn more about the Winchester brothers, I’m more inclined to think he simply doesn’t want to bother you with his problems. Each of you seems determined and quite pigheaded in that way. Along those lines, should you need someone to call and talk to…_

And there it was, an offer of friendship he had never made before, to anyone aside from Ash. And if he was honest with himself, though he was happy to accept, he had not been the one to initiate a true friendship with Ash.

 ** _May 25, 2004_**  
_…and quite enjoyed your stories over the phone yesterday. I would like to meet this Benny. You say we would not get along. I’m not so sure. Something tells me he would enjoy keeping you off balance while I enjoyed keeping you grounded. It could be a mutually beneficial friendship…_

 ** _May 26, 2004_**  
_…I’m not giving up, Dean. I promise. You worry about “the money running out” before we find Sam. That isn’t how it is going to work. If that happens, here is my promise to you. I will take other clients, but I will continue using my free time and all of my resources to look for your brother. This is a man who deserves to know his brother cares about him. If he is out there somewhere, wondering if you still love him, we will find him to tell him. If he isn’t out there, if he’s passed, I will find that out too, so you can have closure. I won’t let you and your brother continue to suffer. He deserves peace, and so do you. Don’t worry about the money right now, Dean. When you’ve decided you can’t do this anymore, that doesn’t mean I’m done. I’ve never said that to a client before, but I’m promising you now…_

 ** _June 2, 2004_**  
_…So just a quick note to tell you I’ve arrived in Ohio. Ash feels certain about this John Doe. Like I told you on the phone, this is looking more and more like we might have your brother in our sights. Just hold on. I’ll let you know when I have anything concrete…_

 ** _June 3, 2004_**  
_Dean,_  
_I don’t have time to call you, but after speaking to a particularly helpful nurse, I have new information which is leading me to Akron. I hope, by tomorrow, that I will be able to tell you if you should make the trip. Please don’t do anything until I call._  
_Castiel._

 ** _June 5, 2004_**  
_Dean,_  
_I will call as soon as I can, but I’ve stared at your brother’s photograph for the past month, and a man I believe is Sam Winchester just emerged from an apartment building I have been staking out. I will call you when I have made a confirmation, but I feel confident that you should make plans to head for Akron. Knowing you, you’re already packed. I’ll call this evening, if I can make the confirmation. In the meantime, please drive safely._  
_Castiel._


	19. Reacquainted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Dean spend some time. Sam's POV

Sam burst into laughter. He could not remember the last time he had relaxed and enjoyed time with someone else like this. Even with Andy, he had always felt reserved, but with Dean…Well, with Dean, it was like he belonged. He could not shake the grin off his face. “Hey, so…so, I had a dream not too far back.”

His brother-and didn’t that word sound amazing?-lifted his bottle to his lips and nodded. The way he stared at Sam and soaked in every word the younger man said just filled him with delight. He kept getting the feeling that Dean was afraid to blink, that Sam would be gone if he did. “Yeah? What of?”

He even liked the man’s Kansan drawl. It was a touch stronger than Sam’s but it was similar. “So there was this guy, and I’m wondering if it was you. I was giving him this piece of jewelry I had gotten from this grouchy older dude…like an uncle? I don’t know, it sounds…”

Dean was sputtering on his beer now. “It sounds creepy when you say it that way,” he cackled.

Sam watched him. He loved this guy’s laugh crinkles. His heart swelled with fondness each time he heard that laugh. “Yeah,” he agreed. “Really creepy. I woke up all freaked out, thinking it might be a memory.”

“No, that happened.” Dean reached under the neckline of his gray henley shirt and pulled out a charm hanging on a black cord. “And the guy? That was Bobby. You used to call him Uncle Bobby. He…he’s a family friend. And…and he’s kind of our other dad. But you told him you wanted to get me something for Christmas when we were kids, and he took you to buy something at a pawn shop. He said he tried to talk you into a hundred other things, but you insisted on this. And I loved it. I’ve always loved it. Except when I’m in uniform, I wear it all the time. I kind of feel like they’re my dog tags from childhood, you know? Like if anything ever happened to me, I could be identified by this thing. I don’t know if that makes any sense to you.”

“I had something like that on me.” Sam pulled out the worn charm bracelet from his pocket. “It’s…I don’t know, it’s the only thing I had on me when I woke up. Do you know it?” He handed it over with only a slight hesitation.

Dean turned it over in his hands reverently. Sam felt gratified by the amount of respect his brother showed the object which had been his only link to his past. It was as though Dean instinctively knew how much it meant to him. “No, I don’t know it,” he murmured. “That’s your birthday. But I don’t know where you got it. Sorry. Must have been…while I was gone.”

Sam nodded quietly. “It’s okay. I just thought maybe you’d be able to fill in that blank. But you couldn’t have known everything about me, right?”

The green eyes were cast down now, and the beer was emptied. “No,” Dean agreed in a soft tone. Then he took a deep breath. “But there ain’t nothing I don’t want to know. We got a lot of catching up to do, and we can’t do it all in one night. I want to think we got a lot more nights after this one.” The gaze lifted again, and there was a desperation there that made Sam’s heart hurt.

“Yeah, of course. We’re brothers, right? I mean…I don’t know, that’s gotta mean something. The only set of brothers I know wouldn’t walk across the street for each other if it was inconvenient. But you. You hired a guy to track me across state lines. That’s something, right?”

Dean blinked at him then. “God, Cas didn’t tell you. Sammy, I’ve been looking for you all over the country for years. I haven’t just been waiting for you to show up. I didn’t just now start looking, when I called Cas. Sammy, I’ve been to everywhere I could think of, on both coasts, during every leave I could take, called and contacted every place I could think…Cas finally found you, man, but I’ve been searching for years. Long years.”

The backs of his eyes stung suddenly. This brother, this guy who conjured such feelings of devotion and admiration in Sam, he had not just sent someone to look for him. He had wanted him. Castiel was right. Dean hadn’t known how to conduct the search, but he had tried. Through watery eyes and a shaky smile, Sam snorted. “I guess I should be glad Cas doesn’t suck as much at hide and seek as you do.”

Dean stared at him for a moment, then burst into a laugh that melted away all the tension which had collected between them. When he caught his breath, he let his hand fall onto Sam’s wrist. “Man, I missed you, you little shit. God, you’re the same Sammy, just…bigger.”

This pleased him somehow. He smirked. “Still glad you found me?”

“Definitely,” he replied. Then he shook his head, and took on a sad tone. “Sam, I know you’re not asking all your questions. I know you gotta be burning up to ask some…”

“Yeah,” he admitted, and he finished his beer. “But you’re not talking about it for a reason, so I can wait. If it’s something that bad, let’s just do that talk another day. I gotta know soon. But let’s not do it tonight. To be honest, if it’s something as shitty as I think it might be, it might trigger some memories, and that’s-I can’t deal with another panic attack today. Whatever the crap that is, when I remember something and my brain tries to shut down…it hurts like hell. I want to just enjoy having a brother tonight.”

“Me too,” Dean said, and there was so much emotion in those two small words, that Sam knew putting off the inevitable questions was the right thing to do. “All you need to know, Sammy, is I have always been on your side. Always. Okay? So when you do finally get the story, or you remember it on your own…Don’t forget that part.”

He nodded. “I think I know that’s true.”

“I hope so.” Dean watched him a moment longer, then pushed past the somber tone to smile. “So the guy I hired to find you. Was he a good choice?”

Sam stared in surprise. “I…I don’t…What are you…” He could feel his face flushing in embarrassment, and he lowered his head to hide behind his hair out of habit.

Dean laughed quietly, and gestured to the bartender to bring another round. “Sammy, I’ve missed out on teasing you for seven years. And I don’t care how long we’ve been apart, I know the look on your face when you want something. Used to be it was grilled cheese or my comic books, but it’s the same look. You like this Cas guy. And he clearly likes you. I’m just saying.”

He accepted his cold beer with some trepidation, but a slow smile was creeping up on him. “Maybe,” he murmured. Now that he knew Castiel’s real name-and his own-maybe…He looked up. “You’re really okay with that?”

“Being into guys? Dude, I don’t care if you’re into trees. I’m so fucking glad to have you back. And I never really thought of it when you were turning thirteen, fourteen, but looking back, I guess I kind of knew. It was never a big deal. Not for me. You’re Sammy. It’s all part of what makes up my kid brother. What weirds me out isn’t that you’re gay, dude. It’s that you’re freaking six foot four.”

Sam laughed happily. This whole having a brother thing…It was nice.


	20. Decisions Decisions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Burned to Ash

There was nowhere to go but back to his motel room. Dean wanted him to stay in town, but it bothered him how much Castiel himself wanted the same. He lay on the bed fully clothed and stared up at the ceiling. When it became obvious that a nap was not going to happen, he reached for his phone. 

His favorite contacts list consisted of just three numbers. There was Ash and the Roadhouse. Then there was Dean W. He had a hundred frequently called contacts, all resources for his job, but those were the only three which warranted being on the speed dial. Castiel had bought the most advanced phone he could get, since he spent so much time traveling. It was his lifeline. Cellphone technology was the only thing he could successfully geek out about with Ash, who said that in a few short years, his phone would be the only computer Castiel would need. He hoped that was true. 

"Talk to me."

Castiel sighed. "Hello, Ash."

"What's going on out there? Glad you finally checked into a motel, but thought this one was done. Coming home? Decide to settle down in Akron and have babies?"

The ghost of a smile haunted his face. "No. I'll be home soon. A few days at most."

"Good. The girls miss you. I couldn't care less, but Jo and Ellen have apparently become attached."

He snorted. "I'm sure they haven't noticed I'm gone."

"'Course they do. Nobody's touched Ellen's private stock in a month."

"We wrapped this case quickly," Castiel murmured. 

"Helps when the kid ain't hiding."

"Yes."

"You okay, Cas?" Ash's voice was quiet.

Castiel squeezed his eyes tightly closed. "Ash, I can't sleep."

"I know, man," his friend sighed. "Can you say why?"

He felt like his throat was closing up. But he made himself huff again. "Sounds like you already know why."

"'Course I do, boss. But do you?"

Tears filled his eyes. It shouldn't have shocked him. He had experienced more intense emotions in the past month than he had since he was leaving Naomi's home all those years ago. But he was shocked to taste the salt, and ashamed. "I..I didn't mean to get so close to this."

"I know, man. We probably should have turned it down. It was too close to home."

"Close to home," he repeated bitterly. "Neither Sam nor I know what that word should mean. Leaving home is an escape from hell. Live the lie. Just do what you're supposed to do, and shut up about it. Don't deviate from what's normal and acceptable, and you can have a home. I was the favorite in my home, did you know that? Because everyone always assumes they know what I am and what that means." Tears were streaming down his cheeks now, and he felt the burned-in shame searing his heart, but he was too tired to fight against it. He spent every day of his life fighting against himself, since before he could remember. Getting drunk with Ash was the only time he ever let it go. "I haven't even been drinking," he laughed suddenly. 

Ash laughed too, but it was quiet and sad. "Why the hell not?"

"Because it doesn't help anymore," he whispered. "Because it's just another way of lying. I'm just so tired, Ash, and I can't sleep."

"Do you like this guy, Cas?" 

The question was gentle, but it stabbed mercilessly through an open wound. Burns and lacerations, not physical like Sam's, but as painful and permanent. 

Except that Sam didn't remember his. If there were any physical scars, Sam wouldn't remember where they came from. 

Castiel steeled himself, putting an abrupt end to his weeping through disciplined force of will. "No," he said coldly. "No, this man, he has the chance to begin a new life, unbroken. He doesn't need anything damaged in his life."

"Cas? Do you like this guy?"

He sat up and glowered at the ground. "It doesn't matter. Ash, it doesn't matter. Sam-"

"Sam should get the chance to finally decide what he wants for himself, Cas! If you contribute to controlling this kid's decisions, you are doing him the same damn disservice his daddy did to him, and the same one his brother was trying to do by checking he was okay, then leaving. That's horseshit, Cas, and you know it's wrong! He's an adult, and he should get to choose what he wants in his life! You don't get to take these decisions off the shelf because you think you know what's best for him. Don't you dare."

Castiel was silent. He had never heard Ash so upset before. Ash was the most laid back person he had ever met, more likely to raise his voice about the validity of string theory while lecturing drunkenly from the pool tables than get angry about any social issue or ethical dilemma. 

"Cas? You don't like the guy, fine. Come on home then. But if you do, and you don't let him know, you are not giving him the chance to evaluate whether something could be good for him, and that ain't right. His daddy did that. Told him what he couldn't be and couldn't have, who he couldn't love. Your mama did it to you too. So get over yourself, fall right off that high horse and stop pretending like you know better than Sam does what's good for him. Especially since you clearly can't even tell what's good for you!"

A slow, shaky smile formed on Castiel's face. "You done?"

Ash huffed out an irritated sigh. "I think so."

"You gonna help me figure out what to say or do you want to put Jo on?"

"Oh, screw that. I'm Dr. Badass, not Dr. Love. Hold on. I'll get her."

Castiel chuckled quietly, and stood to wipe his face on one of the motel washcloths. He stared into the mirror at the disheveled, red-eyed monster watching him. "It's been a while since I got my heart kicked in. Guess I'm due."

He could hear Jo squealing in the background, and he put his aching head in his hands. This was not going to end well.


	21. Second Chances

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone is waiting for Sam tonight.

Sam knew it was just a matter of time before the next memory headache overwhelmed him. And he still had a lot to talk to Dean about. But for tonight, just for one night, he was going to be glad to be alive, glad to have a brother, and grateful for second-and third and fourth-chances. 

Especially since he could see what was becoming a familiar pale trench coat shifting in the breeze under the street lamp by his apartment building. 

He was itching to call Andy, and he knew his friend was waiting for details. But as Dean pulled the Impala up to the curb, Sam just watched the figure standing there, and knew Andy would have to wait. If ever Sam had felt like an angel was watching over him, it was now. He had his high school certificate, and evidence that he really was as smart as his friends had suspected. He had friends-and when the hell had that happened anyway? And from nowhere, he had gained a big brother who had utilized every resource in his reach to reunite them. If Sam were going to push his luck, it should be tonight. 

Dean was chuckling at him. "I spent years looking for you. He spends a month, and now you've only got eyes for him."

Sam turned to give him a glare. Even this felt right, glowering at his big brother's teasing. "You aren't as pretty," he snapped. 

The older man shook his head. "Shut up. I'm adorable."

He grinned, then lowered his head to hide behind his hair. "I like...I like that you can joke about it. That it really doesn't bother you. I don't know why I thought it would."

There was a haunting in Dean's green eyes then, but he smiled through it. "Sammy, I am always on your side. Please don't ever forget that, okay? No matter what. I know you don't know me. But I would fight or die for you. In a heartbeat, no question. I'm just...I'm grateful you're letting me...in your life, you know? However you want to do that, I'm game. I'm just so..." Dean's eyes rolled heavenward and he blinked several times until his emotion was under control before he continued. "I'm just so glad you're okay."

Sam watched his face, and felt his heart filling. "I'm not okay. I'm so much better than that. We got a lot to work out, I know, but I'm glad you found me."

He laughed quietly. Sam got the impression that this man was unaccustomed to showing so much emotion. "And you're especially glad I hired that guy to do it."

Sam smirked now. "Maybe. But I've already hit on him twice, and he didn't budge."

"Try again," Dean suggested gently. 

Once they had made plans to meet again the next day, and exchanged phone numbers, Sam stepped out of the car. Castiel approached the driver's side window with a glance up at Sam first. "Are you all right, Dean?"

"I'm awesome," Dean reported. 

Awesome. Dean said that a lot. Sam was sure of it. It was his word for everything good, and everything terrible, depending on how it was said. Dean was always awesome, and everything in his life was awesome. Sam remembered that. He sighed happily, and stepped away from the car. A few quiet words were exchanged between the other two men, then Dean's classic car was pulling out of the lot, and nothing but a breeze and lamplight remained between him and the handsome man who had already shut him down twice already. 

But what the hell?

"Cas? You going to pretend you were waiting for my brother?" he jabbed with a smile. 

The blue eyes blinked at him suspiciously. "No, I...I had something I wanted to say to you."

"If it didn't have something to do with you following me up to my apartment tonight, I don't want to hear it." He could not believe how bold he was being. If another man had said any of the things to him that he had said to Castiel, he probably would have punched him. 

But Castiel was smiling. "I had an apology prepared, regarding my behavior at the bar."

"Yeah? Was it a good one?"

"It seemed to be. Would you like to hear it?"

"Not really."

Castiel nodded. "I'm glad. It was bound to be quite awkward. May I simply ask if the offer for company still stands?"

"I think I've made that pretty clear."

The blue gaze was darkening with intensity now. "I'd like to rescind my earlier response and accept."

Sam snorted a laugh. "I'm glad, Cas. I've had a really, really good day, and I want to see if I can make it a really good night."

Castiel stepped forward and looked up into his eyes in a way that made Sam's heart race wildly. "I promise it will be."

Clearly, Sam had done something to gain favor with the angel of second, third and fourth chances.


	22. One Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam is in a hurry, but Castiel is in no mood to rush now that he has found the person he has been looking for.

In spite of Sam's trembling urgency, Castiel forced the scene to slow down. He returned Sam's frantic nips with sensual kisses, his impatient whines with soft sighs, and his insistent hands with a steady gaze. He could feel fear in the younger man as well as the desire, and he would put that right before they hurried into anything. He insisted on the bedroom behind a closed door, even though Sam lived alone. He stripped them each clean of layers, far slower than Sam might have preferred. For every article of clothing he picked off of Sam, he lost one himself. He could feel Sam's skin burning, hear his blood racing when he kissed his throat, and he could smell a heady, salty musk that challenged his own restraint. At last, they were naked and drinking in the beauty and the want each had to offer the other.

The fourth time Sam lunged for him, Castiel took both his wrists in one hand with a single, graceful sweep. The younger man's nostrils flared and his eyes flew wide. Castiel smiled with interest. It seemed this was a man who appreciated strength. His took a deep breath through his nose and pulled Sam's wrists to guide him to the bed.

Sam's trembling only increased in intensity. His eyes searched Castiel's for an idea of what his lover wanted from him.

"Shh, Sam. We have all night, don't we?"

He whimpered then, and it was a delightful sound coming from such a large person. "You're enormously overestimating my willpower."

Castiel chuckled quietly and nipped at Sam's ear. "I promise to be good to you," he whispered. "But I want you to relax first."

"Okay, see that's never going to happen. My anxiety level is exactly the inverse of my measure of willpower. It's a delicate equation. And you're completely destroying my willpower, which means my anxiety is practically gaining independent sentience."

He buried his head in Sam's chest and laughed until the bed shook. Sam was blushing purple, but he laughed too, and a bit of the tension eased from him. Castiel looked back into his eyes with a fond adoration. "My god, you're the sexiest nerd I've ever met."

Sam sighed, but his smile persisted.

"You're rushing us because you think one of us will change his mind?"

And now the gorgeous hazel stare went from ravenous to haunted, in only an instant. "Maybe I'm afraid you'll look too close," he whispered. "Maybe I'm afraid you'll be disappointed in what you find. Maybe I want to hurry and have you, before you really see me."

Castiel raised his fingertips to Sam's jaw, and traced the clenched muscles in reverence. "I've seen you, Sam. You're the one who hasn't. If you could see you, you'd know how beautiful you are, that you could never disappoint. Sam, I find people. That's my job. And the moment I saw you, I knew you were exactly what I've been looking for my whole life. So if one night is all I get of you, I want it to be the longest night of my life."

A crooked smile passed over Sam's face. "One night?" he said breathlessly.

"One night," he confirmed. He put his hands to work brushing up and down Sam's arms and chest, feeling the flesh tingle under his ministrations. "And I want to spend every second of it making you feel the way you deserve to feel. To replace every bad memory with a good one. To bury every hurt and fear, remembered or not, under pleasure and comfort. So if you aren't interested in that, you should tell me now. Otherwise, just let me worship you. Please."

The awe in Sam's eyes was nearly enough to make Castiel's heart tear into pieces. His silence bled out too long, and Castiel found himself holding his breath. Then Sam shook his head. "Castiel, I'm stronger than you think I am."

A wave of adoration swept through him, and he let his eyes close indulgently for a moment. "I know you're strong, Sam. It's part of what is so amazing about you. But just for this one night, please let me be strong for you. Let me do anything it takes to make you feel good. You deserve to feel good."

Sam smiled and shifted his body beneath Castiel's, eliciting a barely controlled intake of breath from his lover. "And if at the end of it all, if I want there to be more than just one night?"

Every scrap of resolve shredded in a blink. Castiel's whole heart poured out as he opened his eyes again. "I would never be stupid enough to say no."

"Again," Sam teased, his own fingertips pressing into Castiel's back to hold him closer.

"Again," Castiel agreed. "If you'll let me touch you all night, I'll never ask for anything else from you. But, God, Sam, I would never be able to say no to anything you asked of me."

Castiel could feel Sam's skin heating under him again. He felt every muscle tighten, and embrace him, slotting them together in a way that made him lightheaded. "Then get started. I don't want to waste any of our night either."


	23. Morning Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam is remembering...

Sometimes Sam awoke disoriented, even though he had been in the same apartment for three years. He supposed it came from dreams he could not recall upon waking. But on the very rare occasion that he had awoken next to someone, it was far worse.

He sucked in his breath sharply as he realized he was not alone. It was far worse than nearly stepping on Andy the morning before. This man was in his bed.

"Sam?" The man turned toward him, and memories of last night came flooding back to overwhelm him. Castiel frowned in concern. "Sam, are you all right?"

"Cas," he breathed. Even he could hear the terror in his own voice.

Castiel sat up quickly, and reached out to grip Sam's shoulders with strong, steady hands. "Sam, you're shaking. How can I help you?"

"Please don't tell Dean," he choked out, and the whole room blurred before his eyes. He stumbled out of the bed, and fell violently against the wall before slumping to the ground. He fought to stand, and fell again. Dizziness overtook him, and he put his curled fists to his temples in desperation. "Just don't tell Dean!" He was vaguely aware that the screams were his own, and was less conscious that he was mostly naked, in thin black boxer briefs. But since he was entirely unsure who the other presence in the room with him was, it mattered little.

"Sam? You're going to be all right."

"I'm so sorry!" he shrieked. "Just stop! Make it stop!" He was sobbing now, and hands were on him, and he was pushing away, but he couldn't bring himself to throw a punch at his father. Never his father. Especially not if he ever wanted Dean to forgive him for his-

_"Disgusting, unnatural behavior!" John bellowed. He brought his fist down on his son again, and when Sam turned to flinch away, it landed square on his ear._

_The world went silent, then muffled, then it sounded like an alarm going off inside his head. He screamed, tried to scramble further from his father's wrath. He was already backed up against the wall, and his father continued to rain down blow after blow. Sam's hearing returned gradually, and he could hear himself begging, and he hated himself for it. He had never asked John for anything in his life, not since Dean had explained that they didn't need to bother Dad with things. If Sam needed anything, he could just tell Dean. When Sam was old enough to realize how wrong that was, he had promised himself he would never ask anything from his father, not ever._

_But now he was begging._

_"Please, please, Dad, please," he sobbed wildly._

_"I taught you better! Don't you call me that! You ain't the boy I raised! I raised a soldier! A fighter! A goddamn fighter! I raised a man! I don't know who the hell you are! I taught my boys to survive, taught them to fight, taught them to be real men!" He punctuated each phrase with another blow. The intensity was wearing down as the man tired, but the hate in it showed no sign it would ever dissolve. "I don't know what you are, but you ain't my son! Disgusting," he shouted. "Nasty, disgusting..." And finally, John tripped backward until he found his bedroom door. "It's all right, Sam," he heaved. "It's all right. You're all right. I taught you before. I can teach you again. We can fix this."_

_Sam could barely breathe, but he managed to choke out the only thing he cared about anymore. "Please. Just don't tell Dean."_

"Tell me what, kiddo? And speak up a little; the connection's bad."

Sam swallowed hard. "The connection is always bad," he complained.

"I know, man. Try again. Tell me what?"

He swallowed again, and a third time, and at last the lump gave way. "I said I needed to tell you...You need to know how bad Dad's drinking is getting."

There was silence on the other end, then a sigh. "I know," he said again. "I can hear it when I talk to him. But, Sammy? Give him a little patience, okay? I know it ain't easy. Nothing about Dad is easy. But listen. Now that I've been in some of these places I been...Dad was in Vietnam, man. You don't know what that means. I don't even know. Things were so different then. But I know better than I used to. For some guys, it...it breaks something, and it doesn't always get better. And I don't think it even really broke for Dad till Mom died. I think it was just in there, like...what is it when a volcano isn't active, but it could be?"

"Dormant," Sam supplied softly.

"Dormant. Then when Mom died, it all crashed in on him, you know? I think...I think I understand better than I did before. He's a good man, Sammy. He just does the wrong thing to cope. He's still our Dad. He gives you an order, you still follow it, okay?"

"Yeah," he sighed. "I'm sorry." His tears were threatening to spill over, and he couldn't let that happen. Even if Dean couldn't see, he might know. "I'm so sorry."

"Hey, hey. Don't be sorry. I don't want you to be sorry. I want you to be patient, okay? Dad was a hero. That doesn't go away because he drinks too much. You gonna be okay?"

Sam stared into the mirror at his cut lip and the dark bruises on his face, throat and chest, which would mostly be healed or concealable by school on Monday. He pretended Dean knew, that he was really asking about the bruising. "I'll be all right," he responded. "I'm stronger than you think, Dean."

"I know you're strong, Sammy. Strongest guy I ever knew. And considering where I am and who I'm here with? You better believe that means a lot. Hang in there, kiddo. Time is going to fly by, and I'll be back before-"

_"-you know exactly what I'm asking," Dr. Benton snapped. "Stop being impertinent."_

_Sam stared forward stubbornly. "I think she's got the right to be called whatever name she has chosen to represent her identity. Sir," he added in a mocking tone._

_Dr. Benton scowled. "He, Sam," he sighed. "Jess is a boy. No amount of pronoun nonsense is going to change that. These thoughts of yours are a part of your disease. And I want you to tell me what you can remember about the way your brother abused you. It clearly wasn't your father. I think it must have been your brother."_

_It would serve this son of a bitch right if he threw up all over him. But Sam wished he would stop making his stomach churn anyway. "I already told you-"_

_"Look, it's the only thing that makes sense. We wouldn't hurt your father by telling him what your brother did to you. That's not necessary. But we do need to help you heal from your trauma. So don't spend your energy defending a very disturbed boy who thinks he's a girl, just because you feel sorry for him, when you should be more worried about yourself. Let's talk about your brother."_

_"My brother never touched me, you sick bastard! He never made me do anything. And you go ahead and say that to my father! It'll be the last thing you ever do!"_

_"I think it's time we just began our session in earnest. A colleague of mine, Dr. Ellicott, will be joining us tomorrow, and I'm looking forward to showing him how you've been doing. Your charts say you've been awake four days, Sam. We must be nearly there. Your emotional outbursts today and your spike in energy level are evidence that you are nearly at your limit. And that is where we will begin your new life, Sam. Healing can only begin once you've been broken down and rebuilt properly. Dr. Ellicott taught me that. You will begin-"_

"-a whole new life, Tessa. I promise."

"What about you, Sam?" Tears were flowing freely down her face.

He smiled at her and shrugged. "I'm stronger than you think. Go on. I'll be fine. I've got everything I need right here." He held up the charm bracelet and the key.

Tessa threw her arms around his neck, and let him hold her for a moment. "You sure you'll be fine? You promise me you'll take care of yourself?"

"Tess, as soon as I'm settled someplace, I'll call you here at your grandmother's, okay? Go on."

The older woman was quiet, but she reached to hug him too.

Sam smiled. "I'm glad Tess has you, ma'am."

She nodded sadly. "You do too, Sam. I wish I could...you really won't take money?"

He shook his head. "No, ma'am. I'm just grateful you can take care of Tessa. I don't need anything." His smile took on a bitter taste. "If my father taught me anything, it was to survive on my own. I'm grateful to him for that too, because that's exactly what I'm going to do."

"And your brother?" Tessa asked gently.

Sam laughed to keep the tears from forming. "I picked up a bunch of postcards at every bus stop, and I found a thrift shop that has old ones from all over for sale. He'll think I'm road tripping. It won't occur to him to look at the postmark. I can still support him while he's deployed without letting him know where I am. I can't be sure he won't tell Dad."

Tessa seemed as though she did not approve of the strategy, but she said nothing. "Be careful, Sam."

"No worries. I've been patched up at the ER, and I've gotten a good sleep on a cot that didn't have arm restraints on it, and your grandmother makes awesome soup. I'm good to go."

_"Be careful, Sam!" a voice screamed behind him._

_He turned back to look at the handful of street kids he ran with on occasion. He had just enough time to frown and wish his mind weren't so exhausted from sleeping on the ground again last night, before everything went bright black, and he knew nothing else._

"Sam! Wake up! Come back, man. Okay? Come on back."

Blinking revealed nothing but light. "Too bright," he croaked hoarsely.

A man's hands shielded his eyes from the brutal fluorescents. "It's okay. It's okay, Sammy. Just look at me. Can you look at me? Nurse wants to see your eyes, man."

Sam frowned in alarm. "This isn't a memory," he murmured groggily. "You weren't here. Dean, you weren't here when I woke up..."

When at last he opened his eyes, he could see the pain on his brother's face. "I know, Sammy. I'm so sorry. I'm here now, kiddo. Cas too. We're right here."

"Cas?" Sam said, and he nearly winced at the hopeful sound of it.

"I'm here, Sam," the deep rumble said from outside his line of sight.

He struggled to keep his eyes open, and suddenly there was another set of hands on his face, touching his eyelids, and it reminded him of Dr. Ellicott, and he began to tremble violently. But then Dean's strong hand was on his arm, a hand he would know in his darkest confusion, and he let out a shaky breath.

"You'll be here when I wake up?"

"Of course I will. I promise." The voice sounded like it was coming from above the surface of the water Sam was drowning in. "I'll be here, Sammy, I swear..."

It would have to be enough. Sam gave in to his brain's insistence that everything would be better if he just wasn't awake anymore.


	24. Team Free Future

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam wakes up to find himself with family. Dean is right there waiting, as promised.

When Sam's eyes blinked open, Dean was watching them for recognition. But instead of his gaze landing on him first, the young man gave a crooked smile and huffed out a surprised laugh. 

"Uncle Bobby!"

The figure in the grungy baseball cap turned from the corner where he was speaking to Castiel to grin at Sam. "Hey, boy! Welcome back to the land of the living! Thought you were gonna snooze all day!"

Sam's eyes sparkled with excitement. "No, sir! Bobby! I can't believe..." He shook his head in wonder. "I owe you money, man!"

Bobby burst into laughter, and reached down to pat him on the face twice. "Damn, boy. Don't you ever take off without telling me where you are! I'd of been here for you! I'd of..." Emotion choked off whatever else he might have said. 

"I know. I know, Bobby, but you had already helped me too much, and I didn't want Dad trying to get information from you. Plausible deniability and all that."

"Oh, he woulda been welcome to try," Bobby said darkly. "Wouldn't of been the first time I tangled with that man."

Sam's eyes were filling with tears. "You came here for me? Dean told you where I am and you came?"

"Of course. What do you think?"

Sam shrugged and sighed with relief. "I was so afraid, Bobby...I was afraid you maybe helped me because you felt you had to, or maybe because you cared about Dean, but that after that maybe you wanted me to lose your number."

"I ain't never giving up on you, boy. Not ever."

Dean watched Sam's smile tremble, saw his eyes blink against tears, and he wanted to jump up into the discussion. But he held himself back. This was between Bobby and his brother. 

"Yes, sir," Sam choked. "Thank you, Bobby."

"Besides," the older man said, running the back of his hand over his eyes. "Like you said, you owe me."

"Yes, sir! I would have paid it all back by now if I had-I don't know if Dean told-"

Bobby snorted. "Damn right. As I figure it, you owe me...How much I give you?"

"Twelve hundred dollars, I think." Sam began to chew on his lip. Dean knew that look. The kid was doing math. 

"Okay. So that's a thousand, two hundred phone calls you owe your Uncle Bobby, plus years of interest that compounds daily. You better get started on that, kid."

Sam let the tears burst out with a laugh. "Yes, sir!"

Bobby nodded as though that settled everything. "Now let's get you out of this place if we can. Dean, I'm gonna have a chat with the nurses, work my charm. Ya'll get him ready for an escape."

Dean winked at the older man and nodded. "Yes, sir," he sighed. "Go work that charm."

Castiel, silent until now, seemed unconvinced that Bobby Singer had much to offer in this way, but he simply peaked an eyebrow and did not comment on it. "Dean, his discharge will depend upon whether the doctor feels he is ready to go home. It doesn't seem wise to be planning an escape against medical recommendations."

Dean looked back at Sam. "Really? This the guy you spent last night with?"

Sam chuckled. "He's a little more smooth when the lights are down."

Dean winced. "No details, please. You're still my dorky kid brother. And he's a friend. It's weird enough already. I gave my blessing under the condition of no details."

"Noted and filed," Sam promised. "So what...happened exactly?"

Dean glanced at Castiel, then back at his brother. "Cas, um...Cas said you woke up in a panic attack, and couldn't come down off it. So he called me and said he was getting you to the hospital. I met him here. You were out hard, and the doctor said you needed to rest and then he would see if...They did a CAT, and...I don't know. Doctor said you were probably getting your memories back, and it was overloading you. I mean, that's not how he said it, but..." He shrugged a bit sheepishly. "But that's how the nurse dumbed it down for me."

Sam nodded slowly. "I remember everything. It all came crashing into my head all at once. I still can't sort it all out. Dean, where's Dad? Is he all right?"

He took the question as a punch to the stomach. "You would," he said quietly. "You would ask about him after everything the bastard did to you. You're too good, Sam. Better man than me." He swallowed hard. "He's all right. He's in a veteran hospital, mental health place. They'll take it from here."

Sam watched his face for several beats, then nodded again. "He still...You think he's still hating me?" His voice was raspy and forced, as if he did not really want an answer. 

"I think he's regretting that he lost you," Dean responded. "But I don't care. He's sick and he's being taken care of. That's all I need to know. I will never speak to him again, Sammy. If I have to, I'm afraid I'll kill him for what he did to you." 

Sam sighed. "He thought he was-"

"If you say Dad thought he was doing the right thing, so help me, Sam..."

His brother watched him through tired eyes. "Dean, let's just be done with that. I went five years without knowing to be angry with him. No point in starting now. I don't need to spend any time letting him control how I feel, about anything."

He shook his head in awe. "Better man than me," he breathed again. "Come on. Let's see if we can get you home. And I think you better call that buddy of yours. He's like a little freaking stoner bulldog. He still thinks me and Cas are here to hurt you, and admitting you into the hospital may not help with that."

Sam smiled fondly. "Andy's a good guy. He just-"

"Cares about you. Nothing wrong with that."

The younger man sighed with relief. "I'm glad you don't resent that. He's been my only friend for a really long time."

Dean wet his lips before responding. He wanted to choose his words carefully. Panic attack and hospital beds aside, this was going fairly well, and he did not want to screw it up. He would give anything to not screw this up. "You...you get, though, that he ain't your only one now. Right?" 

His brother watched him through thoughtful narrowed eyes. The suspicion in them was painful to see, but Dean withstood it. 

Sam had every right to doubt him, he reminded himself. He had failed so completely to protect him, to support him. 

Dean began to breathe too shallowly as the silence held out. He surrendered and lowered his gaze. Sam was evaluating him, and he wanted to stand at attention for inspection. He wanted to check his uniform. He wanted to have the chance to prove himself in drills and on the range. But being the best shot in his unit meant nothing right now, and it occurred to him with dread that it was all he had to offer. Sam was looking past his eyes, into the soul he knew was blood-spattered, tarnished, and drenched in guilt and shame. 

"Dean, Andy was my only friend for a long time. But you were my first friend, and you'll always be my brother. Even when I didn't know you, I felt that. I need you in my life, man. That hasn't changed since I remember now what a great big brother you always were. Why would it?"

Dean let out his breath too sharply now, but he smiled with relief pouring off his every muscle. "Thank you, Sam. God, just...thank you."

"Dean, none of this is your fault. Dad got me convinced that you would see things his way, but it was a real dark time for me. Otherwise, I never would have believed that. I know you always got my back, man. Jesus, Dad had me believing I saw things his way some of the time. I just hope you forgive me for not telling you, for running and staying gone. I just couldn't take the chance you felt like he did. It would have ended me. Will you forgive that?"

It was all Dean could do not to cry, to protest, to insist that it was all his fault, that Sam had just been trying to survive. He made himself nod. "Sammy? No matter what, you and me? We're good. I promise we're good."

Sam took a breath and turned at last to Castiel. "And you? If I promise to work on my morning after etiquette, can I see more mornings after in the future?"

Pleasure brightened Castiel's surprised eyes. "Sam, there is nothing I'd like more than that. I...I'm just sorry if something triggered..."

He snorted. "Waking up with you was the only nice part of my morning. I just couldn't appreciate it at the time, since I was viewing Nightmare on Every Street in my head."

Castiel glanced worriedly at Dean, then took a breath and approached to touch Sam's wrist gently. Dean could feel the trepidation in his friend's awkward stance. "Sam, how do you feel now? You were...violently afraid back at your apartment. I don't want you to ever go through that again. If your brother had been the one to hear what you were screaming..."

Dean closed his eyes briefly. 

"I think I'll be all right now, Cas. I really do. The worst was initially remembering. Now I can spend some time sorting through everything. I've been to a counselor. It helped before. I'll do it again. Now that I can remember, I can learn from and then move past the bad stuff and..." He glanced up to smile at Dean. "You know...keep the good stuff." He shrugged. "Right?"

Dean watched a look of realization come over Castiel in a wave. The man stumbled back, and nodded slowly while staring into space. When at last he spoke, his deep voice was soft. "Yes. Perhaps that is how we should all treat the past, and the people from them."

Sam smiled. "It makes sense in my head."

Dean sighed contentedly. Things were coming together. Things were moving forward. His odd little family was happier than it had been in a very long time. There was a lot of lost time to make up for, lots of things to get to know about one another. But the long lost brothers, their eccentric grease monkey uncle who wasn't an uncle at all, and the wonderful, quirky guy who finds lost family, they were going to heal. This was going to work. Details didn't matter. This was going to work. 

The big brother was back, and he would make it work.


	25. Because You Found Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The End.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first smart phone came out in June of 2007. If I retro-correct this, no one would notice but me, but it would completely screw up my timeline. So no. It's an alternative universe where Apple released it two years earlier.

Sam did not want to talk to the chef about this. Or anything at all. In fact, he preferred it when the chef seemed to not notice that Sam existed. For one thing, every time he addressed him, he referred to him as-

"Moose. What can I do for you?"

He took a breath and tried to not want to punch the man. "Andy said Tessa quit."

"No, Moose. You would be the worst bartender ever to pour a drink. You can't even speak to the customers. You have a distinct lack of finesse. And you'd break every bottle."

He clenched his jaw tightly. "No. I don't want to tend bar. I want Tessa's forwarding address. You must have it. For her paycheck."

Finally, the chef lifted his head. His eyes looked into Sam's face as though he could see through to his soul. "Why would I give you that?"

"I want to find her."

"I bet you do. Sadly, that's off the table. I've got her new phone number though. I'm guessing you tried her old one."

He had. Meg had given it to him, but it was out of service. He nodded. "Yes, thanks."

The Limey bastard smirked as though he genuinely felt sorry for Sam. "Oh, Moose. There just isn't a thing compelling me to help you with that."

Sam glared at him. "And what might compel you?"

The chef thought for a moment, then shrugged. He looked in his notebook at his desk and scribbled the digits onto a scrap of paper. "Let's just go with...you owe me."

He rolled his eyes as he accepted the paper. "Then that brings me to my next thing. I quit."

He stared at him with narrowing eyes for a moment, before giving him a cold smile. "Well, let's call it even then. Win, win. Get out of my kitchen."

Sam grinned as a thrill shot through him. "Yes, sir," he said happily. He blew out of the back door of the restaurant and caught Andy in a hug. 

The smaller man laughed. "Put me down! So? You did it? You really quit?"

"I got Tessa's new number first. But yeah. I'm done. I'm going to school, man!"

They climbed into his jeep excitedly. "I can't believe all this crap that's happening right now. Seriously."

"It's crazy, I know. But Dean has to get back to base soon, and I gotta figure out my life. I have enough saved up to get me..." He smiled shakily. "To get me a head start someplace," he finished. 

"Where are you going to go, Sam?" Andy murmured. 

Sam appreciated the sad tone. He smiled at his friend. "Nowhere so far that I can't get back here for visits a few times a year."

The other man forced a smile and nodded. "Oh. Good." He took a breath. "I'm happy for you, Sam."

He barked out a laugh. "I'm thinking...University of Akron?"

It took a moment, but Sam could practically feel Andy light up. "Wait, what? Akron? But that's here!"

He reached out to shove him playfully. "Of course it's here. Where did you think I was going?"

"I thought...But you said..."

"I said I was going back to school. You convinced me I could do that, even before I remembered I could. I was a damn good student, man. I want to do that again. But this is my home, and I don't want to give it up now that..." He shrugged. "Now that I've got a home, where I belong, with friends who might actually miss me if I left? I'm not going anywhere."

His friend grinned. "That's...I'm really..." He blew out a sigh. "I'm so glad," he blurted out, and Sam laughed. 

Castiel was standing in the parking lot again. Andy snickered and mumbled something about studying for the new year, which Sam knew was code for baking brownies, and went right from Sam's vehicle to his own. 

Sam smiled brightly at Castiel. "So you weren't just a recurring dream."

A small flash of pleasure crossed Castiel's face. "I'm just glad to be recurring," he admitted. He searched Sam's eyes before leaning in for a kiss. 

He sighed down at him. "You are the best dream I've had in a very long time. I'll keep having you as long as you'll let me." 

When they had found their way into the apartment between kisses, Sam lead him to the bedroom without pretense. He had forgotten that his lockbox was on top of the blankets. 

Castiel frowned and moved away from Sam's grip. "What is this?" he asked softly. 

Sam glanced down. "Oh. Nothing. A key. But I don't know what it..."

Castiel watched him. "It's a train station locker key," he prompted. 

Fog dissipated among his memories. "Yeah," he murmured. "How did you know?"

He raised an eyebrow. "I find people, and sometimes I find them through their things. Sam, a train station locker is often used by someone running from something, or by someone who has no other place to store his things."

Sam nodded thoughtfully. "Yeah. Or both. I was on the streets for a while. I don't even really know how long. Months. It's where I kept..." He looked up finally. "Cas, it's where I kept my photos of Dean and Mom. I mean...I guess I've got a change of clothes and a little money in there, but...but it's where I have my photos and my letters from Dean. Bobby sent them when he sent me the money at the clinic...God, how could I forget those things? They meant everything to me!"

"That's why you kept the key, even when you didn't know what it was for."

"You think that stuff is still there?"

Castiel smiled, and touched his cheek softly. "Probably. I've found lockers that haven't been touched in far longer."

Sam felt entirely content in that moment. It was such an unfamiliar feeling, and he knew it wouldn't last, but for this time, he was just going to soak in the intoxicating concoction of a fresh start and a reunion with his past. 

"Do you want to go now?"

He shook his head as he stared at his lover. "No. If it's there, it will still be there in a few hours. If it isn't there, I don't want to know just yet. Come on. Kiss me."

The blue eyes sparkled with pleasure. "Sam, did you mean what you said a moment ago?"

He flushed hot. "You mean about the thing where you-"

Castiel laughed. Sam loved making Castiel laugh. "No, not when you were whispering me into the bedroom. Before. When you said you would keep me as long as I let you."

Sam looked up at him from where he now lay on his back. He couldn't help staring at the eyes, even as his hands were grappling slowly with the man's tie. "Castiel? You look for people all the time. But I've been looking for someone too, and I knew the minute you spoke that I'd found him. I'm not going anywhere. So yeah. As long as you let me."

Castiel's next kiss made it clear that he had been aching for this for as long as Sam had. 

"But!" Sam laughed, and he pushed Castiel's hands away from his shirt buttons, which surprised them both. 

"But?" was the fearful reply. 

Sam took note of the way Castiel had gone from happy to terrified in an instant. This was a man who had been hurt too many times, he realized. Strong as Castiel clearly was, Sam might need to be delicate with his heart. "Wait. I want to know more."

The head tilted in confusion. "I thought your memories..."

"Well, my memories are still a giant ball of twine right now, but at least they're all accounted for. But I meant you. Knowing I want you isn't the same as knowing anything about you."

The blue gaze lowered. "There isn't much to know. I'm mostly nomadic, and I don't have family. I hunt down people like you for people like your brother."

"There's a lot more to you than that. And I want to know everything. Everything. You literally studied me. That's not fair."

All of the sudden, a smile crawled back onto Castiel's face. "Fine. I'll tell you anything, anything you want to know. But for everything I answer? I earn my way through one of these infuriating layers keeping me from you."

Sam began to grin as Castiel bypassed all the layers completely to slip a hand down underneath to scratch at his bare stomach, making him shiver. "I think I can make that work," he sighed happily. 

*** 

"You know it's got the largest outdoor rifle range in the world?"

Castiel was listening to his friend, but he was getting the impression Dean was no longer speaking to him, and it was really just as well, since he was finding it more satisfying to watch Sam give Ellen a run on the pool table. They had been forced to kick Ash off the top of it, when he had begun pontificating about quantum physics, but Castiel noticed that Sam had promised the man a long debate about chaos after a few drinks, and this seemed to make Ash very happy. 

In the meantime, Dean was telling Jo all the exciting features of his new home on the shore of Lake Erie, near Port Clinton. His buddy Benny was relaxing off to the side, chatting with a regular. 

Dean was grinning at Jo, but he hooked a thumb at Benny. "And this bear over here, he's somehow managed to convince the U. S. Army he's as good a shot as me, so he can be a trainer in the marksmanship program too."

Benny was obviously paying more attention than it seemed. "Not as good as you, brother! Better!" He winked at Jo, and continued his private conversation. 

"In what world?" Dean scoffed. "In some alternative universe where I got no use of my arms, I could outshoot your lazy ass."

Jo was laughing. Castiel rolled his eyes. Jo was practically purring. He shook his head at her. "Perhaps you'll show Dean here your knife collection," he teased dryly. "I imagine he will stop boasting once he sees you're a dead shot with your throwing knives."

Before his eyes, he watched Dean fall madly in love with Jo Harvelle. It was an amazing thing, something he suspected he would toast to at their wedding one day. 

"Your knife collection?" he breathed. 

Dean had told Castiel about the job he had turned down, that his other buddy, Cole, had taken it instead. Castiel was glad. He had helped Cole find out what had happened to his father a year back, helped him get closure on that part of his life, and he knew Cole could not stay out of action for long. He hoped he would be safe. 

Upon his return home after a week with his newly found brother, Dean had put in for a transfer immediately. It took fourteen months, but the openings at Camp Perry had brought Dean and his best friend to Ohio. As Benny had said, Dean was the closest thing he had to family, so if Dean wanted to be closer to Sam, he was going to have to bring Benny along for the ride. Sam had been ecstatic. 

The brothers had gone road tripping together before Sam's classes began again. Dean had driven to Akron to pick him up, then all the way back to Fort Leavenworth. They had turned the twelve hour drive into a three day trip. Once they had packed up Dean's few belongings and tossed them in the trunk, they were off again, this time heading northwest for a roadhouse south of Lincoln, Nebraska. Benny had followed in his old truck, and they had met up with Castiel and Ash, who introduced them to the Harvelle ladies. No one had Dean's attention since, except Jo. In another day, they would be off on route 80 to Akron. Just over halfway there, Sam was mandating a stop for the night in Chicago, where he was reuniting with an old friend, Tessa, who he had not seen in person for a year, though they kept in touch regularly. Benny would part ways to head for Camp Perry, while Dean continued to Akron to spend a night with Sam and Andy in their new apartment. Then he would make the nearly three hour drive to the base himself to report to his new job the following morning as a marksmanship instructor. As Sam put it, he was close enough to hang out together on the weekends, but far enough away so that they could each live their own lives. 

The settlement had come at the perfect time. Sam had been trying to decide if he could afford to continue school, and perhaps graduate school as well. Dean's buddy Garth had made good on his promise to wipe Last Hope off the map, and gathered far more evidence than was necessary to allow for a class action suit to succeed, as well as criminal charges brought against owners and some staff. Castiel knew that both Sam and Tessa had received a significant sum for their experience there. It would never undo the damage, but it went a long way toward making it easier to start anew. 

And now that Andy was graduating and about to marry Ava, and move out...it was time for more decisions to be made. 

Sam was lying in his arms in the dark, listening to the light rain outside. "We don't have to decide right now," Sam was whispering. 

"No," Castiel agreed. "But we may as well. I would rather sleep most nights with you than sleep most nights in the back of a roadhouse, until Ash finds someplace to send me. But...you know he will have jobs for me. I won't be there all the time. Sometimes I'll be gone for more than a week or two."

Sam nodded. "I know. But it would be better than having to go to Nebraska or you going all the way to Akron from here when you're off. You can just make Akron your home, and your work will still be...everywhere else. Maybe Ash could try to keep most of your jobs along route 80?"

He smiled softly. "It doesn't exactly work like that, Sam. Your brother hired me in Kansas, and it lead me to Cleveland. I can never be sure where I'll end up."

"No, I know. But...maybe on school breaks, I could come with you. I won't be in the way. I'll just hang back at the hotel while you do your thing. And during the school year, I'll be too busy to miss you anyway."

Castiel laughed and poked Sam's exposed stomach. "I'm always busy, but I still miss you," he protested. 

"Really? Because you hardly cross my mind."

Castiel punished his teasing with a barrage of kisses all over his body, until Sam was completely breathless. 

"Okay! All right. I miss you all the time. God, don't get me wound up again. We had sex less than fifteen minutes ago. I got a long drive tomorrow. Will you just say you'll move in with me so I can go to sleep?"

Castiel considered. "If I don't, will you stay awake and convince me?"

Sam rolled onto his stomach and put the pillow over his head. "No," he mumbled through the fabric. "I'll give up on you and go find a boyfriend who appreciates me while I'm unconscious."

He nodded. "Fair enough. Yeah, I'll move in with you."

A brown head poked out of the pillow. "Really?"

"Of course, really. I can come here anytime I want to see Ash and the ladies. I don't need to be here for work. It's 2005. There's technology for that! I told you about my new Apple smartphone-"

Sam's massive hand shot up. "Yes, and please don't tell me again. Geek out about it with Ash."

Castiel laughed. "Yes, Sam," he said indulgently. "But it leaves me free to be anywhere I want, and there isn't anywhere I want to be more than with you in your home."

The man smiled up at him happily. "I love you. You know that?"

"I'm aware," Castiel sighed, becoming very serious. "And I'll never forget to be grateful that Sam Winchester sees something in me to love. A man who could have the world, a man so good and so right that it sometimes hurts to look in his eyes and know he's looking back into mine. I will always be grateful I found you."

His lover pulled him in to hold him, and he went willingly. "I'm glad you found me too," he whispered.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed it. Please take a moment to comment and/or recommend if you did!!
> 
> ~Posing


End file.
